


The Space Between You And I

by MilkTeaMiku



Series: Gravity [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Polyamory, Soulmates, Vampire Keith (Voltron), Witch Lance (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-07-24 17:07:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 100
Words: 100,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16179458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MilkTeaMiku/pseuds/MilkTeaMiku
Summary: How can I measure the space between us? A centimetre, the world, an entire universe?-Small ficlets for a variety of pairings.





	1. Keith/Lance/Shiro - Fragments

The mark on Lance’s wrist disappeared ten years ago. He hardly remembered what it looked like now, almost ten years later. 

Everyone, no matter their species, was born with a mark on their wrist. It represented the other half of their soul, and took a form that would help them identify who it belonged to. As each person reached a certain age – usually around fifteen or sixteen – the mark would guide them in the direction of their mate. Many described it like a physical tug, one that pulled them to wherever they needed to be. Others said it was more like a burning sensation, or tingles, something that would lessen or intensify if they were getting close.

They were guiding forces, the marks. Like a map imprinted on a person’s soul.

Lance had been lost for a long time.

A mark would disappear if a person’s mate died. A soul gone meant a mark gone. 

Usually, however, the bearer of the disappeared mark would die, too. Legends always said that people were born with only a fraction of a soul in them. The promise of that soul still being somewhere out in the world kept them alive. If a part of the soul died, then the other fractions would wither and fade away, too. In some ways, it was poetic. In other ways, tragic.

Lance’s family had thought he was going to die when his mark disappeared. He’d thought he was going to die, too. That time in his life had been very traumatising, and thinking back on it made him feel uneasy and drained. Time had passed twice as slowly during those months. He’d expected to die at any moment, and feared going to sleep, knowing that eventually he wouldn’t wake up. Even now, the thought still crossed his mind when he went to bed. Was he going to die in his sleep? Wilt away like a flower that had never been watered? 

He never did.

It almost felt cruel. If his mate had died, then why did he still live? Wasn’t he meant to die, too?

But he lived on. His mark never returned, no matter how much he wished it would, and he never died either. It took him years before he felt normal again. He learned to ignore the blank space on his wrist, often wearing a band or bangle to hide it, and he made himself learn to love things again. His mother taught him to love cooking, and his father taught him to love the sea. Every evening for years after his mark left, all of his siblings would walk him down to the beach and teach him how to weave shells into necklaces, how to find sea glass amongst the rocky stretch of pools between the tide and the cliffs. 

When he was older, the age most people set out to find their mates, he started making things to occupy himself. His family was one of water magic, and his love for the sea was a calming balm that healed the sting of his empty wrist. He wove sculptures from the energy of the tide, twisting seawater into spirals and waves and flower petals. His little trinkets became popular, and they kept him busy. 

He never really expected anything big to change in life, not since his mark disappeared. He’d stay by the sea and build his sculptures and find ways to make himself feel happy and fulfilled. Who was going to come looking for, after all, if he no longer had an identifying mark on his wrist?

Someone did come looking, though.

Lance was by the sea when he got caught up in a fight that he probably had no business being in. Out of nowhere, an injured wolf had come streaking out of the forest behind the sand dunes, running as fast as it could. Its dark fur was clumped together with blood as a wound on its side leaked. Lance was so startled by it that the half-formed sculpture between his hands shivered back into water, spilling across his lap. Right before his eyes the wolf seemed to lose its balance, tripping over its own paws. It skidded through the sand, its form changing, until there was a man slumped by Lance’s feet.

Hunters burst out from the trees, their arrows raised. Shifters were rare – no wonder he was being hunted. Lance wasn’t sure what made him do what he did, but he didn’t even hesitate before calling the power of the tides to his aid, sending a wave several metres tall hurtling across the sand. The water curved around him, forming a shield around him and the prone shifter as it slammed into the hunters. There were shouts and muffled cries as they were swallowed by the water.

A second man emerged from the trees, a cut on his bicep staining his skin red. There was a scar across his nose, and one of his arms was a prosthetic. He was breathing hard but quickly held his hands up when the water reared up at Lance’s command. 

“Keith!” the man exclaimed, hurrying to the shifter’s side. Lance skittered back as he drew close, far enough that his ankles and halfway up to his knees were submerged in water.

The shifter – Keith – groaned at the sound of his name, trying to push himself upright. He opened his eyes and stared hard at Lance, his intensity so surprising that Lance felt as though he’d been shocked. Something about his gaze made Lance’s stomach squirm.

The man followed Keith’s gaze. “Thank you,” he said, glancing briefly at the hunters dotted across the sand, unconscious. 

“You should leave before they wake up.” Lance felt nervous for reasons he couldn’t explain.

“It’s him, Shiro,” Keith suddenly said, a slight growl to his voice. He pushed aside Shiro’s worried hands and wobbled to his feet, his eyes moving up and down Lance like he was prey. “I can smell it. It’s him.”

Shiro’s eyebrows inched up. 

Keith stalked closer, uncaring that he was getting his shoes and pants wet. “You’re our mate,” he told Lance.

For a moment, the words simply didn’t register. Then Lance felt himself go tense all over, a defensive, ugly thing rearing up inside of him. “No I’m not.” 

“You are,” Keith insisted. “I can smell it on your scent. Show me your wrist.”

“No,” Lance protested. He was frozen to the spot, his heart pounding. Keith snatched for his wrists, and Lance quickly lost against him, too overwhelmed to put up much of a fight. The smooth emptiness of his inner wrists were turned up towards the sky, exposed for Keith to see.

Keith seemed surprised by what he saw – or more likely, by what he didn’t see.

Lance jerked his wrists back, his face colouring. “Happy now?” he snapped.

“Come out of the water,” Shiro urged. Something about his voice had both Keith and Lance obeying, not because the command was particularly forceful, but because the words sounded reasonable coming from Shiro, whose eyes were flickering from Keith’s wound to Lance’s twisted face and back again. 

Lance didn’t leave the water, not entirely. He felt calmer as the tide lapped at his ankles. 

“Can I see?” Shiro asked, glancing pointedly at Lance’s wrists.

Lance breathed out through his nose, but obligingly exposed his empty wrists again. He wasn’t sure why. 

“You have no mark?”

“No,” Lance muttered, turning his wrists inwards again, hiding them.

“How long?”

“Years,” he told Shiro, who flinched with surprise. “I don’t know why I’m not dead.”

“I think I do,” Shiro said. He held out his wrists, one real and one not, and neither bore a mark. 

Lance felt just as surprised as Shiro had been. “No mark?”

“It was on this arm,” Shiro explained, holding up his prosthetic. “But I lost the arm in an accident ten years ago.”

Lance was quiet for a moment. “Ten?” he whispered.

Shiro nodded.

Something dangerously close to tears burned in the back of Lance’s eyes. He swallowed the growing lump in his throat. “I… lost mine, about the same time.”

Shiro gave him a small smile. “I figured.”

“Did it look like this?” Keith asked, undoing the band around his wrist to expose the mark sitting on his skin. 

Lance peered at it closely, but he couldn’t quite be sure. He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but it did look familiar. “I can’t really remember what it looked like,” he admitted. “I’d have to ask my family. But, just– how can you be sure that I’m…?”

“I had two marks,” Keith said. “One on each wrist. One disappeared ten years ago, but the other remains. Shiro recognised the mark on my wrist, but I knew that it wasn’t his one, that his one was gone. We’ve been looking for you ever since.”

Lance had never heard of someone having two marks, not even if they were part of a triad. He couldn’t deny that something strange like that seemed to fit in perfectly with them, though. Two marks, a missing arm, no mark – it was a mess. But did it mean he wasn’t alone after all? 

“We can ask my Ma if the mark is the same one I had,” he tentatively offered.

“I already know it is,” Keith said, “you smell like my mate.”

“We should check, if you don’t mind,” Shiro interjected. “Not everyone can tell through smell, Keith.”

Keith just frowned at him. “I’m going to be right.”

“Let’s double check anyway, alright? And get you fixed up.”

“Just a scratch,” Keith muttered.

“That is not just a scratch,” Lance argued, looking at Keith’s torn side and the blood making his shirt stick to his skin. “I’ll take you back to the village and ask a healer to look at you, okay?”

Keith didn’t seem too keen, but Shiro accepted the other for both of them.

Lance tried not to let himself feel excited. He snuck glances at Keith’s wrist, feeling more and more certain the mark was familiar, like something in his very being recognised it. If Keith’s nose was right, then Lance would have two mates – more than he’d ever dared to hope for.

And god how he wanted it. Wanted them. Something deep in him felt like it was waking up, and it was happy to see them. 

“If it helps,” Shiro said to him quietly as Lance led them back home, “I have a feeling Keith is right, too. I may not have his nose, but I’ve always trusted my instincts. I saw you and was filled with the same feeling I had when I first saw him.”

“What feeling?” Lance asked.

Shiro thought for a moment. “A feeling like… I’d come home. Or like I’d found the place I was meant to be. I’m sorry that me losing my arm made you markless.”

“You lost an entire arm,” Lance protested. “Don’t apologise.”

“I know, but being without it, not knowing why… it must have been hard.”

Lance didn’t want to admit how hard it had been, not to people who were still strangers, no matter how much it felt like all the cracks in his fragmented soul were being put back together.

“Let’s just get back to the village, okay?” He felt exhausted, and just wanted to get the two of them away from the hunters before they woke up. They’d have plenty to talk about once they’d been patched up and healed.

It seemed impossible that Lance could wake up with no mates and an empty soul, but suddenly have two. He was being given answers to questions that had always confused him about his missing his mark, and he desperately wanted to believe them. Had Shiro’s accident really caused both Lance and Keith to lose his mark? It was possible, he realised. Incredulously possible.

He breathed in deeply and tried to calm his racing heart. 

Maybe he wasn’t doomed to be alone after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to another hundred stories! I hope you enjoy them ^^


	2. Lance/Shiro - Drowsy

Lance yawned as he peeked open his drowsy eyes. Nothing in particular had woken him up, but he found that he didn’t mind all that much. The chaise lounge was by the open glass doors that led out onto the balcony, and the pale, floor length curtains fluttered into the small warm breeze. 

“Ah,” Shiro said, smiling at him. “You’re awake.”

Lance hummed. He was spread out on the lounge but Shiro was seated, Lance’s head resting ever so gently on his lap. One of Shiro’s hands gently carded through his hair, having long since pried free ay knots of tangles in his locks. Together they’d bee relaxing on the lounge for the better part of the morning, but Lance didn’t want to be anywhere else.

“Are you not tired?” he asked Shiro, his words becoming rounded with a yawn as he blinked up at his beloved. “Is this sunlight not making you sleepy? All I want to do is nap.”

Shiro offered him a small smile and shook his head. “I much rather prefer watching you sleep.”

Lance laughed quietly. They’d been up late sorting paperwork the previous night, so he was quiet sleepy still. It had been Shiro’s idea to have a rest on the lounge, since it was currently bathed in morning sunlight. What a splendid idea indeed.

“You don’t mind if I rest for a little while longer?” Lance asked, letting his eyes trail curiously over Shiro’s face. Many people thought that the thick scar across his nose lessened his looks, but Lance thought the exact opposite. He thought it made Shiro look more handsome, and he liked admiring Shiro’s features when he had the chance, scar and all.

“Of course not,” Shiro assured him. He continued to run his fingers through Lance’s hair, brushing the strands away from his face and forehead. “Sleep for as long as you wish, love.”

Lance smiled, turning to hide his face against Shiro’s legs. Sometimes he still couldn’t believe this man was as in love with him as Lance was with Shiro. They’d been friends at first, having known the same people. Lance had fallen in love instantly. Shiro was a tall, broad, handsome man, who had a sweet voice and a kind personality. It hadn’t been surprising that Lance liked him from the beginning.

It had taken Shiro a little longer to like Lance in return. He hadn’t quite been able to believe that someone young and energetic like Lance would like someone who was scarred and older like himself, though their age gap wasn’t terribly large. He’d probably thought of Lance as a little annoying at first, all this considered. Lance had been rather clumsy at expressing his feelings, after all.

But they’d fallen in love, and now they shared their lives and their home together. There was nothing better than curling up on a chaise lounge in the sun to doze away the morning, especially not when Lance had the love of his life with him.


	3. Keith/Lance - Impatient

Lance was slouched across the lounge, a ball in hand, when Keith returned home. Every few moments he’d toss it as far out of the window leading to the backyard as he could, where Cosmo would immediately chase out of the open back door after it. Lance had lost count of how many times the ball had been dutifully brought back to him, but Cosmo wasn’t bored of it yet, so he continued to throw it.

“Welcome home,” Lance said, tilting his head back as Keith set down his bag to walk over to him. “Did you get everything?”

“Just about,” Keith said, ducking to press a brief kiss to Lance’s forehead. “How long have you been throwing the ball like that?”

“Probably thirty minutes or so. He just wants to play.” Usually, when Cosmo was full of energy like this, Lance would take him for a walk, or run around the backyard with him, but he didn’t have the energy that afternoon. His heat was coming up, and he was at that stage where he wanted to do nothing but sleep and lay around, which was exactly what he was doing.

“Shiro and Adam are going to stop by to pick him up sometime tonight,” Keith said, watching as Lance threw the ball out of the window, which was promptly followed by Cosmo running out of the back door at full speed. “They’ll take him for a walk, or something.”

Lance hummed. “That’s good.” He pat the spot on the lounge beside him and smiled when Keith sat down. He leaned against his alpha’s side, drawn by his scent and the warmth of his body. Keith’s scent was a mix of something warm and spicy, like cologne, and something more natural, like the smell of the earth. He smelt a bit like smoke when he was angry, but like a sweet, burning candle when he was pleased. Lance loved his scent.

Keith turned his nose into Lance’s hair, tossing one arm around Lance’s shoulders. “You feeling warm yet?”

“Not yet,” Lance said. He’d start to get a temperature the closer he was to his heat, as all omegas did – a signal that their body was ready. He twisted around to face Keith, curving himself into the side of Keith’s body. 

As Cosmo brought the ball back, Keith threw it out of the window, letting Lance take a break from dog-related activities. Lance let his eyes close, and breathed out deeply. Keith had only been gone for a little while, just down to the grocery store to stock up on heat supplies, but Lance hated being alone when he was this close to heat. He was needy and clingy and wanted Keith to pay attention to him all the time. He guessed he was still a bit insecure that Keith would find a better omega one day, and his heat brought that out of him.

But Keith was always willing to comfort him. He seemed to love it when Lance became a little possessive, actually. His scent would always show his pleasure at Lance’s clinginess, even if he’d never let it show on his face. Keith never shook him off or turned him away when Lance pawed at him, or wrapping his arms around one of Keith’s, or followed him around the house like a lost puppy. Sometimes he’d even let out pleased little rumbles.

Gently, Keith began to trace his fingers up and down Lance’s neck. Lance let out a pleased sigh, pressing closer against Keith. On every pass up his neck, Keith’s fingertips would run over his scent gland, and it sent a tingle down his spine. They were always more sensitive when he was close to heat.

“How much longer, do you think?” Keith asked.

“So impatient,” Lance teased. Keith’s cheeks went red, and Lance laughed, nuzzling against him. He had the sweetest alpha. “Not long. A few hours, maybe.”

“Alright.” Keith rubbed his cheek against the top of Lance’s head, scenting him. “I should probably get Cosmo’s things ready.” He paused. “You’ll be alright on your own for a bit?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” Lance was reluctant to let Keith go, but Cosmo quickly demanded attention, dropping his ball into Lance’s lap. Cosmo was technically Keith’s dog, but he felt more like theirs, since they’d been living together for a few years now.

Keith kissed his forehead again before heading off to gather Cosmo’s toys and blankets. The dog would stay with their friends until Lance’s heat was over, since they wouldn’t be able to take care of him.

Lance settled against the lounge, sighing again. He felt comfortable and safe, and was secretly just as impatient for his heat as Keith was. He had an alpha he loved and trusted, what more could he want?


	4. Lance/Shiro - Nightmare

When Lance was little, still too small to walk, he’d been kidnapped. He didn’t remember any of it, and besides some bruises and being dehydrated, he hadn’t sustained any lasting injuries. His family was well off and his kidnappers thought his parents would pay handsomely for the safe return of their youngest child.

He hadn’t been injured, not like his parents had thought he might’ve been. At least not physically. The bruises healed, but the nightmares he had for at least two years after that were almost worse. He’d flinch every time he heard a window rattle, or when a car backfired on a nearby street. As a kid his parents had been able to soothe his fears by tucking him into their bed or switching on a glowing nightlight in his own bedroom. He’d eventually outgrown the nightmares, anyway.

At least, for the most part.

Sometimes he still had vague, unsettling dreams about it. It was never quite clear what was happening in those dreams, but he woke up sweaty and shaken, his heart racing. He usually only had those dreams when he was stressed or sick.

But he’d been having them more often lately. He wasn’t sure why. He didn’t feel stressed, and he wasn’t falling ill. One night last week he’d jolted awake when a car screamed down a nearby road, its tires squealing against the asphalt. He’d been damp with sweat and tangled up in his sheets which made him think that he’d been having that dream again.

The only thing that was different was that Shiro was over.

He’d never told his boyfriend about what happened to him when he was a child. Why would he? It wasn’t exactly a big part of his life. He couldn’t really remember it happening, and it was a one-off, freakish incident that had never happened again. He was fairly certain the men who’d kidnapped him had been caught and jailed appropriately. It wasn’t a problem that came up regularly in his life. In fact, the only time it ever popped up was when he had that dream.

Shiro had woken up when Lance did that night. He’d been worried, of course he had, but Lance had played it off as any other nightmare. As far as he was concerned, that was all it was.

It was less easy to brush off when it happened again, and again. 

So Lance told him about it. “I was only a baby when it happened so I don’t remember anything, I just get weird dreams about it. Honesty, I remember more about the dreams I had than the actual incident.” 

Shiro stayed quiet and held his hand as he explained why he was having nightmares all of a sudden. “Is there anything I can do?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowed with concern.

“I don’t know,” Lance admitted. “Usually they go away on their own. I’m not even sure why I’m getting them now.”

Shiro pulled him close and held him tightly. “I’ll wake you up if I can, okay?”

That was really all he could do when it came down to it. Lance went a few nights without the dreams, but they came back. He was shaken awake by Shiro, who stared sleepily down at him, braced on one arm over him. Lance’s heart was racing and he could hear himself gasping for breath.

“You’re awake, you’re okay,” Shiro soothed, voice croaky with sleep but steady and calming. He cupped Lance’s face in one hand and made Lance look at him until his breathing evened out. “There you go. Better?”

“Yeah,” Lance whispered. “Sorry for waking you.”

“Same dream?”

He nodded.

Shiro pulled the blankets back up over him, and slipped one arm under Lance’s head, letting Lance nuzzle against the crook of his neck. Shiro had that sleepy smell to him, one that smelt like their bedsheets and cotton and warmth. It made Lance’s eyes droop.

“You seemed really scared,” Shiro said quietly. 

“It’s not a nice dream,” Lance murmured. “But I never really remember much. It’s more just like a feeling.”

Shiro hummed, and cradled the back of Lance’s head with one hand, his fingers carding through Lance’s hair. He’d been staying over a lot more, much to Lance’s delight. Lance hoped his nightmares wouldn’t scare him off, but they didn’t seem to be. The way Shiro was taking care of him and comforting him just made him fall in love with Shiro more.

“Try and get some rest,” Shiro encouraged, pressing a sweet kiss to Lance’s forehead. “I’ll make sure nothing happens to you, okay?”

“Okay,” Lance whispered. “Love you.”

“I love you too, Lance.”

Closing his eyes, Lance nestled against Shiro’s side, and let the tension ease out of his body. He knew he was safe with Shiro.


	5. Lance/Shiro - Misjudge

Lance’s bags became heavier with each step. He wasn’t used to carrying his own luggage, but he wasn’t going to ask his new bodyguard to help solely based on the fact that said bodyguard clearly thought he was a spoiled omega brat.

To be fair, he was spoilt, and he was an omega. But he wasn’t a brat.

“Up here, Mr McClain,” the bodyguard said. 

Lance glanced up the stairwell and pursed his lips to stop himself from sighing. One more flight of stairs to go, it seemed. He missed the manor already.

The McClain’s were a notorious family, and probably only half for the right reasons. His parents’ love story was a bit of a legend – the eldest daughter from a high-ranking crime family met and married the eldest son of a simple baker. The bakers had a good reputation, and the son, who was Lance’s father, was very beloved by the community. Everyone loved his special eclairs. The crime family was less liked, as was the natural way of things. They had a strangle hold on the city’s liquor supply, selling to all the clubs, mob-owned or not. They didn’t care for drugs or violence, not particularly, but alcohol was a rather prioritised commodity for the city.

They married and had five children, of whom Lance was the youngest, and the only omega. One each of his two older brothers and two older sisters was an alpha, the others betas. He was sort of the baby of the family. Well, definitely the baby. His parents pampered him and his siblings were protective of him. He was the same for them, of course. But he was the youngest, and the only omega. It made sense they’d send him away when a threat was made against the family.

The bodyguard he’d been entrusted to was a man called Takashi Shirogane. He was an alpha, one who was perfectly capable of protecting others to the fullest degree. He’d been privately contracted by Lance’s family – his mother’s side – to protect Lance until the threat had been… dealt with. 

Shirogane’s apartment was on the fifth floor of an eight story building. It was in a quiet, conspicuous neighbourhood, and to enter the building, one had to have a security key. As he entered Shirogane’s apartment, he noticed that there were several heavy-duty locks on the front door as well. From the outside, it seemed like any other inconspicuous, run-of-the-mil apartment. But from the inside, it was well guarded.

“Your room is down the hall,” Shirogane said, as he closed and locked the door behind Lance. “The door on the far left.”

Lance nodded, and dragged his suitcase down the hall. The apartment was sparsely decorated, and Shiro’s scent was faint. He probably had several apartments like this, little safe houses dotted all over the city. 

He passed a bathroom and a hallway closet on the way, as well as a main bedroom, which smelt a little more like Shirogane than the other rooms. At the end of the hall was his bedroom. It was smaller than the main bedroom, only large enough to fit in a single sized bed, a trunk, a desk, and a small wardrobe. Lance heaved his suitcases onto the bed and took a moment to survey the room.

He missed his own bedroom. There was no denying he lived a comfortable life, and at home at the manor, his bedroom was his safe space. It smelt like him there. Smelt familiar. Even for an omega, he had intense nesting instincts, so everything in his room was perfectly placed to provide him with the maximum amount of comfort. He had soft sheets and mountains of pillows and even stuffed animals from his childhood because he couldn’t shake his fondness for them.

Here there were only two pillows and a quilt.

“Do you not like the room?” Shirogane asked, peering in at him from the doorway. “Mine is larger, if that’s more to your preference.”

Lance went red. “No, no, this is perfect. Honestly. I just…” He hesitated, before adding, “I just miss home, that’s all.”

Shirogane hummed, and disappeared back down the hallway.

Letting out a sigh, Lance unzipped his suitcase, and began to unpack. There was no telling how long he’d be here for.

 

The first night, he didn’t sleep well. Not the second, either. Both passed restlessly, and only short, interrupted periods of sleep. He wasn’t used to the mattress, or to the smell of the sheets, or to the noises the apartment building made at night. Every thump of someone going up the stairwell woke him, every window rattling and door slamming shut. 

Shirogane didn’t have much in the way of food in his apartment. He only seemed to have things that wouldn’t expire anytime soon, like instant noodles, and instant macaroni, and instant coffee… a lot of instant, microwaveable foods, none of which sat very well with Lance’s stomach. 

On the third day, Lance plucked up the courage to do something about the food situation. 

“I want to go shopping,” he said.

Shirogane glanced up at him from the book he’d been reading, a frown on his face. “Pardon?”

Lance flushed. “For- for groceries, I mean,” he clarified. He’d never been so nervous around an alpha before. “There isn’t much to eat…”

“There are noodles,” Shirogane said. “Toast. Eggs in the fridge.”

Clearing his throat, Lance tried not to squirm, and persisted. “Noodles won’t last forever,” he said. And they weren’t good for him, he added to himself. His stomach was queasy just thinking about it. When it seemed like Shirogane was going to deny him again, he continued. “I’m going to go either way so I think it would be best if you accompanied me. At least, that’s what I think my parents would want.”

Shirogane frowned at him.

Lance frowned back. 

“Alright.” Shirogane stood, and set aside his book. “To the grocery store.”

 

Lance kept the grocery basket tucked close against him as he wandered through the store, Shirogane an ever-present force hovering behind him. He’d already filled it full of fresh vegetables and fruits, new packets of pasta to replace the dusty ones in the cupboard, jars of jam and sauce. His father had taught him how to cook.

“I can feel you scowling,” Lance said, glancing at Shirogane out of the corner of his eyes. “You don’t need to worry about money. My family will pay for the groceries.”

“We shouldn’t be outside,” Shirogane said.

“I won’t be much longer.” Lance readjusted his grip on the basket and carried on.

 

He cooked dinner that night. The placement of things in Shirogane’s kitchen was foreign to him, and Shirogane didn’t have things like rolling pins or measuring cups, so Lance had to do some guess work when it came to recipes. 

Cooking did make him feel a little better though. He cooked enough to feed a family of seven, and packed away the extra portions into the fridge in any container he could find. He wasn’t sure if Shirogane actually ate at the small table in the kitchen, but he set the table for the alpha anyway, more out of habit than anything.

“Food is on the table, Mr Shirogane,” he said, standing in the doorway to the lounge room. 

“For me?” Shirogane frowned. 

“I… just made a lot, that’s all. There’s enough.” More than enough, though Lance didn’t say that. Instead he took his plate and disappeared into his small room, reluctant but ready to eat alone. 

At the manor, his parents always insisted the family ate together. They had a large dining table, and everyone had their own chair. As they ate, they’d take turns talking about their day, or raising concerns. There were no arguments at the dinner table, and no one was allowed to miss dinner.

Lance ate alone in his room. He left the dishes lying around and spent the evening trying to sleep, to no avail. It seemed like not even good food could settle his lonely mind.

A week passed uneventfully. Lance spent a lot of time holed up in his room, staring out of the window or rearranging his bed or trying to read the books he’d brought with him. As the days passed, he felt himself become more and more lethargic, like his thoughts had slowed down. He missed his family. He missed his home. He missed feeling like he was somewhere familiar. 

“You seem… upset,” Shirogane said one evening, when he found Lance staring out of a window again. 

“I miss my family,” Lance told him.

Shirogane was quiet for a moment. “I suppose being cooped up in this tiny apartment doesn’t help.”

Lance winced. He wasn’t used to the apartment size, that was true, but he was more lonely than claustrophobic. He was used to having his siblings around, but here he had no one but himself.

“How about we go out tomorrow,” Shirogane said.

Lance glanced at him with surprise. “Can we?”

“For a little while.”

 

Going out meant going to the local park. There were paths winding around a large, man-made lake, and a swing set for kids to play on. Wooden benches dotted the paths and grassy areas. With warm sunshine and a gentle breeze, the park made for a perfect place to spend a few hours. The fresh air felt good in Lance’s lungs.

“It’s not much,” Shirogane said, as he walked behind Lance.

“It’s perfect,” Lance said. There were parks like these near the manor, and this one reminded him of ones that he’d visited as a child for picnics. 

Shirogane seemed surprised by his reaction. “It is?”

Lance didn’t answer. He was just happy to be outside.

 

He slept a little better that evening, and the one after that. He was meant to be in hiding so he couldn’t exactly go out every evening, but Shirogane had promised to take him out at least once a week. Fresh air was healthy, after all.

His good mood didn’t last for too long, but he didn’t return to staring out of windows as much as before. Instead he spent a lot of time cooking in the kitchen, or reading in the lounge room, even if Shirogane was there. 

One evening, Lance fell asleep in the armchair in the lounge room. He remembered dozing off with a book in his lap, but he woke in his bed the next morning, his blankets carefully tucked over him. Shirogane’s scent lingered in his room, but it wasn’t intrusive.

Their relationship, if it could be called that, seemed to have improved a little. Shirogane seemed surprised that Lance wasn’t as spoiled as he’d probably thought – Lance cooked and did his own laundry, and he always made his bed in the morning. He didn’t leave mess anywhere except in his bedroom. He never pushed to go outside either, unless it was for groceries. 

Lance was starting to wonder if the protective detail was a bit much. More than two weeks had passed nothing had happened. Of course, he probably jinxed it. 

He fell asleep in the armchair again. It was becoming a habit, as was Shirogane carrying him to bed every evening. Lance was finally feeling comfortable enough to linger around different parts of the apartment, and was spending less time zoning out in his room. He was starting to settle in, just a little bit. He hadn’t even been asleep for long when someone burst through the front door.

He didn’t recognise them, but he didn’t need to. One look at the knife they carried and he knew all he needed to.

Their sour, aggressive scents woke him almost the instant they kicked down Shiro’s front door, deadlocks and all. There were three of them, all alpha, all as big and broad as Shiro. One immediately went for Lance, backhanding him hard enough to send him spiralling to the ground with a pitched yelp.

Shirogane’s deafening snarl ripped through the room. Lance’s head was spinning as he tried to scramble to his feet, still disorientated from sleep and reeking of fear. A thick hand wrapped around the back of his neck, hauling him upright. He forced his eyes open, baring his teeth in a weak snarl. Across the room, Shiro was cornered by the other two, though one was sporting a bloody nose.

Lance clawed at the hand around his neck, letting out a wheezing growl. The fingers tightened, but Lance wasn’t the helpless omega they thought he was. He lashed out at his attacker’s face, unafraid to use his nails. The alpha snarled at him, his grip loosening for just a moment, long enough for Lance to drive a knee straight between his legs. 

When the alpha collapsed to his knees, Lance aimed a roundhouse kick at his head, and the alpha went down. His hands went to his aching throat as he tried to suck in oxygen, eyes fixed on the unconscious alpha at his feet. Blinking several times didn’t stop his vision from swimming. He couldn’t pull in a proper breath.

Shirogane let out a grunt across the room. One alpha yowled as he crashed back against the coffee table, the wooden legs splintering beneath his weight. He was the one with the bloody nose, except now his knuckles and lips were also bloody. His knife, the tip red, skittered across the floor towards Lance’s feet. The other alpha was on Shirogane, the knife pressed dangerously close to Shirogane’s throat. Red was pooling in a papercut thin line across his pale skin.

Lance reached for the knife at his feet. He’d had defensive training, of course he had, but he’d never killed anyone. He knew how to shoot a gun, how to brandish a knife, how to squirm out of ropes and handcuffs, but he’d never killed anyone. He didn’t want to start now.

But Shirogane…

He tightened his fingers around the heavy hilt of the blade. He crept closer, trying not to stumble over the broken table or the two unconscious alphas. The alphas were so preoccupied with fighting that they didn’t notice him, didn’t hear his heaving breaths or smell his fearful scent. 

Lance held his breath as he swung the knife. 

The wooden handle smacked hard against the alpha’s temple, knocking him to the side. It gave Shirogane the chance to punch him square in the jaw, making the alpha’s head snap back. He slumped to the floor in a rumpled heap. 

Legs going wobbly, Lance stumbled backwards, dropping the knife to the floor with a clatter. He fell backwards, swallowing hard. 

Shirogane covered the wound on his neck with one hand, his eyes flickering towards Lance. “You alright?” When he received no answer, he tried again. “Lance?”

“I think I’m going to faint,” he said. 

He was right.

 

He woke up in the middle of the night feeling like someone had their fingers around his throat. There were tears on his cheeks, and he was drenched in sweat. The cloying scent of scared omega saturated his room. 

“It’s okay,” Shirogane whispered, suddenly appearing beside him. He’d dragged a chair into Lance’s room next to his bed. He wrapped his fingers around Lance’s and didn’t complain when Lance squeezed tightly. “Just breathe, Lance.”

“Mr- Mr Shirogane?” he wheezed.

The alpha let out a little snort, looking exasperated and exhausted. “Just call me Shiro. God.”

Lance whined a little, tilting his head back. Sometimes when an omega became overwhelmed by fear, their body would get stuck in a hyper-aware state. Their scent would portray only fear, and their flight or fight instinct was skewed strictly to flight. Lance could feel himself sinking into that space even though he knew he was safe.

“Calm down,” Shiro whispered, rubbing his fingertips over the top of Lance’s hand. “Everything has been dealt with. You’re not in danger anymore.”

Lance gulped in huge mouthfuls of air. He could only smell Shiro’s scent. It invaded his senses, and pulled him back from that edge. He let his mind focus on it, let himself be grounded by it. Shiro had done his job, and had proved his strength – Lance had no doubt that he would have been able to handle everything, even without Lance’s help.

“You’re not what I expected,” Shiro confessed, when it became clear Lance was calming down. “Not at all.”

“What do you mean?” Lance frowned at him.

“I’ve worked these kinds of jobs before,” Shiro said. “Spoilt, helpless, rich. Omegas don’t lift a finger around the house and want me to do everything for them. There’s endless complaining and all these rules they want me to follow, as if I was their slave.”

“My parents didn’t raise me to order people around,” Lance said, feeling vaguely offended. “It’s disrespectful.”

“Like I said, you’re not what I expected,” Shiro continued. “I’ve never had a charge of mine cook for me before.”

“I just cook too much,” Lance told him, defensive. 

“You cook enough for your family,” Shiro said. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed that.”

Lance flushed. “Family is important. I… I’m always with them.”

Shiro hummed, voice quiet. “I’m sorry for misjudging you,” he said. “I know it can’t have been easy for you to come here, away from your family. I probably didn’t make it easier.”

“It’s not that, it’s just that there’s not a lot of nesting materials in my room,” Lance admitted. “Which… probably makes me sound spoilt. But it’s clear an alpha lives here, not an omega.”

Shiro’s eyes widened for a moment. “I didn’t think of it that way.”

Lance shrugged a shoulder. “I’m the only omega in my family. They go to great lengths to make me comfortable. I’m a bit spoilt in that sense.”

Shiro laughed quietly at that. “Is that so?”

“Oh, it is. I have a mountain of pillows at home.”

“And only two here, huh?”

Lance shrugged again. “It’s not terrible.”

“But not comfortable.”

“Not… not exactly,” Lance mumbled. “But it’s not forever, I can live with it.”

Shiro shook his head. “I’ll find you more,” he said, squeezing Lance’s fingers. “Omegas have different needs to alphas and I want to make you feel as comfortable as possible while here.”

Lance lowered his eyes. “Because it’s your job?”

“No.” Shiro squeezed his fingers again. “Because I like you.”

Lance tried not to smile. “What a strange alpha you are,” he said.

“And you a strange omega,” Shiro replied. He settled Lance’s hand back against the bed and sank into his chair. “Try and get some rest, alright?”

Lance nodded. “Alright.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been writing this one for a few days and considered making it a longer story on it's own, but for now I'll include it in this collection. I might continue it later!


	6. Kinkade/Lance - Flowers

Someone was leaving flowers for Lance to find.

The first was on his doorstep when he stepped out one morning. There was a bunch of them tied around the stems with twine. He thought they might have been pansies, all fresh and purple like a rich sunset. 

The second was on his books during a lecture. He left his things for a moment and when he returned, a handful of pretty daisies sat on his desk, their petals as white and pure as fresh snow. They were tied around the stems with twine, too. It was how he knew they were from the same person.

The third was when he was sitting in the library on campus, studying by himself. He went to grab a book from the reference shelves and came back to a small handful of baby pink carnations. 

He wasn’t sure who was leaving him flowers, but he felt oddly flattered. It was sort of a traditional thing, to give omegas flowers. It was a sign of wanting to court. 

Lance kept the flowers. He tried to discern a scent from them, but couldn’t get anything. He found himself disappointed when the flowers started to wilt, the pansies first, so he dried them and pressed them in a book. He’d had alphas ask him out before, and some were ballsy enough to try and pressure him into a date, but none had ever taken the time to court him properly.

He spent a lot of time wondering who it could be. Someone he knew, probably, or someone that knew his friends. After all, how else would they know his timetable, or where he’d be during the day? It made him look around at his classmates closer, curious and anxious all at the same time. He wondered why someone had chosen to court him in such an affectionate and careful way, and what was so special about him in particular. He wasn’t a very noticeable omega. There were others with prettier faces and nicer personalities.

But he was quite flattered nevertheless. He started looking out for the flowers, and grew disappointed when he didn’t find them. Fortunately, however, it seemed his mysterious admirer was more than willing to reveal themselves.

Lance was sitting in a quaint little café when a waitress brought over his latte with a flower. A bundle, actually. A sprig of tiny baby’s breath tied with twine. He was so surprised by it – because he just knew it came from his admirer – that he almost spilt his latte. “Wait,” he said to the waitress, looking up at her with confused, wide eyes. “The flowers…?”

“They’re from me,” a voice said.

Lance startled, and glanced at the alpha sliding into the seat across from him. “Kinkade…?”

The alpha gave him a small smile, which was much more than his usual stoic expression. They weren’t close, but they had mutual friends, and he knew Kinkade well enough to trust him. Now that he was seated across from Lance, a sprig of baby’s breath between his fingers, Lance took the chance to look at him properly.

He’d always thought Kinkade was handsome. He had a strong jaw and pleasantly shaped lips, and his strong, aloof expression was very appealing. This close, Lance could smell his scent, and he found it quite attractive. He didn’t have a pushy, overbearing scent like a lot of alphas did, and he didn’t go around flaunting it. He smelt like honeysuckle, and something soft and comfortable, like freshly washed sheets. 

“You’ve been leaving me flowers?” Lance asked.

“Yes,” Kinkade said. “I apologise if you don’t like them.”

“I like them!” Lance protested, face flushing. Kinkade was so respectful, so gentle with Lance’s feelings; Lance could sense him being careful with his words and his scent. “They’re sweet,” he added, embarrassed.

“Well, then I’m glad you like them,” Kinkade said. “I’d hoped you might.”

Lance tried not to smile. “Why me, though?”

“I think you’re interesting,” Kinkade said, “and smart, and I liked your attitude from the first moment we met.” His eyes gained an uncharacteristically teasing glint. “You’re cute, too. That’s a definite plus.”

Lance flushed, his scent blossoming with something happy and omega. It made another small smile touch Kinkade’s face, which only made Lance’s blush worse. He really was quite handsome, like he’d been pulled from a vintage photograph. 

Kinkade held out the flowers between his fingers. “Your answer?” he asked.

He thought about it for a moment, making sure he wasn’t jumping to a decision. But he liked Kinkade already, and his gentle courting pleased Lance’s instincts. He took the flowers with a smile. “Of course, Kinkade,” he said.

“You can call me Ryan, you know,” Kinkade said. There was a faint redness to his cheeks.

Lance grinned. “Ryan, then.”


	7. Adam/Lance/Shiro - Hushed

Wheezing breaths escaped Lance as he stumbled over protruding roots and fallen branches, one hand clutching at his stomach. His scarf was coming undone, and he hadn’t had time to do up his coat. He wasn’t even sure if the buttons would do over his rounded belly.

“Hurry, Lance,” Adam insisted, fingers slick with sweat against Lance’s as he tried to pull Lance along. He adjusted his grip, turning back to take Lance’s elbow, put his other palm flat against Lance’s back. “We need to keep moving.”

“I don’t know– know if I can keep– going,” Lance panted, eyebrows furrowing in a wince. He was developing a stitch in his side, and his legs were aching. 

“I know, I know sweetheart,” Adam said, bearing a little more of Lance’s weight. “Just a little further, I promise.”

Lance felt like he was going to throw up. He breathed in deeply, trying to wade through Adam’s frantic, worried scent to find comfort in its neutral, beta tones, but his mind was too muddled. “I can’t keep going,” Lance cried. 

“We’re almost there.”

They carried on. Lance clutched at Adam’s hands to keep steady. Sure enough, the trees soon parted to reveal a well-hidden cabin. Lance had never seen it before, hadn’t even known it existed before that evening. 

Adam fumbled with the key, but managed to pry the door open, and guide Lance inside. “Stay with me Lance,” Adam said, as he locked the door once more. He put his arm around Lance’s stomach, keeping Lance behind him as he did a sweep of the house. When it was clear they were safe, that no one had found the cabin before they did, Adam sat Lance down in the lounge room armchair. 

“How are you feeling?” Adam crouched down in front of him, hands going to carefully cradle Lance’s stomach. 

“Out of breath,” Lance said, laughing humourlessly. 

Adam offered him a weak smile. He didn’t say anything as he stood, kissed Lance’s forehead, then disappeared into the kitchen to bring Lance water. While Lance was drinking, he went around shutting windows, making sure every entrance was locked. Lance watched him anxiously, making sure his mate never left his sight.

“When’s Shiro coming?” he asked, fingers trembling around his now empty glass. 

“I…” Adam pursed his lips, glancing away for a moment. “I’m not sure, sweetheart. Soon.”

Lance held his stomach again, trying to imagine he could feel the kick of his baby beneath his palm. It was still too early on in the pregnancy for kicks, but he was noticeably showing now; it wouldn’t be long.

Closing his eyes, he tilted his head back against the armchair, rubbing his stomach in an attempt to ease his anxiety. He never expected this to happen. He knew that Shiro had a dark past, that terrible things had been done to him by terrible people – his scars, his missing arm and his wounded, lonely heart were testimony to that.

But it was all meant to be over. Shiro got away, Shiro lived, Shiro healed. He’d learned to let himself be loved again, first by Adam, then by Lance. The three of them had been a solid triad for a year now, fully mated. Lance’s last heat had left him pregnant. Everything was going perfectly. They were happy.

Then Shiro was tracked down. It had been years but the people that hurt him wanted to hurt him again, and the best way to do that was to threaten his mates, his beloved beta and pregnant omega.

“We’ll be alright, Lance,” Adam said, when he sensed Lance’s anxiety starting to spike again. He came over to sit on the arm of the chair, pulling Lance against his chest. “Shiro will be alright.”

Lance turned his nose into the crook of Adam’s neck, breathing in his scent. He missed their alpha. Shiro had secretly had this cabin for years, back from before he knew Adam. Only he knew where it was – he and his mates, now. He’d told them to run and wait for him here.

“How long will we have to wait?” he whispered.

“Hopefully not long,” Adam said.

Lance clutched at Adam’s shirt with one hand, deeply troubled. He knew he was being utterly useless, but he couldn’t bring himself to be strong, not when he was so concerned for his mates and his child. “Thank you for caring for me,” he told Adam.

“I’d do anything for you,” Adam told him.

He believed it. Their triad had one of each secondary gender – alpha, beta, omega. Shiro was the protector, Lance the nurturer, Adam the one who kept the balance. In Shiro’s place, Adam had stepped up to protect Lance in a way alphas usually would. He was a proud, brave man, and even if he was scared, he wasn’t letting Lance see it. 

“There’s little we can do for now, except wait,” Adam murmured, as he helped Lance stand. “We should get some rest.”

Lance knew Adam was right, and didn’t protest as Adam led him to the bedroom. He couldn’t let his health wane, not when he had a precious pup inside of him. Sleep would help. It had to.

 

It was the middle of the night when something woke Lance. He blinked at the dark room, feeling along the bed for Adam’s warmth, only to find it moved. Adam was sitting upright, one foot on the floor. He was staring intently at the door, and a small growl was building in his chest, only low enough for Lance to hear.

“Adam?”

Adam hushed him without looking away from the door. Lance sat up, heart clenching with worry. He inched closer to his beta, his arms going protectively around his stomach.

A moment later, the tension in Adam eased. He clambered out of bed and flung the bedroom door open, throwing himself into the arms of the man on the other side.

“Shiro!” Lance’s eyes widened as he crawled to the edge of the bed. Shiro swept into the room at the sound of his name, bundling Lance up against him with a deep rumble. 

“I missed you,” he said.

Lance whimpered, clutching at Shiro’s back.

“You’re not hurt?” Adam questioned, as he stood beside them, one hand on each of their shoulders. His gentle scent blanketed the room, calming down Lance’s worry and Shiro’s overwhelming protectiveness.

“I’m alright,” Shiro said. “Everything is sorted. Allura helped.”

Adam breathed out and nodded. Shiro hooked an arm around his shoulders and pulled him closer, pressing a kiss to Adam’s cheek as he did. 

“And you?” Shiro asked. “You’re alright?”

There was no need for him to ask – alphas had a heightened sense of smell, and could smell an injury on either one of his mates, even if it was just a bruise or papercut – but he asked anyway. Always the protector.

“We’re perfectly safe,” Adam said, when it became clear Lance wasn’t going to do anything but clutch at his alpha. “Lance and the baby, too.”

Shiro let out a relieved sigh. He sniffed at Adam’s hair and then his neck, before gently pushing Lance away to do the same to him, nosing along his temple and down to his stomach – checking for himself that his family was alright.

“We’re going to stay here for a little while,” Shiro said, when he was satisfied. “Just while Allura sorts everything out. We’ll be safer here for now, but we’ll be home before the baby is born. Is that alright, Lance? Adam?”

“If it keeps us safe,” Adam agreed. 

Lance nodded. “Can we sleep now?” he pleaded.

“Anything for you.” Shiro urged Lance to lie down, and waited for Adam to do the same before joining them, keeping his mates close.

Safe and sound, they slept, together again.


	8. Keith/Lance - Glow

Lance knew that Keith didn’t like him. He never had, and likely never would. In fact, he hadn’t even known who Lance was, even though they’d been in the same class for years. They’d never spoken, not really, but at least Lance knew who he was, what he was like.

He liked Keith. 

Too much, probably.

The moment they’d met – met properly, that is – the mark on Lance’s palm started to glow. It was on his right palm, because he favoured his right hand, even though he was ambidextrous. Everyone was born with a mark somewhere on their body, one that would glow when they began to fall in love with their soulmate. When he’d met Keith, his palm had lit up like fireflies. He supposed he was lucky the mark was on his palm because it was easy to hide – gloves and pockets did the trick. 

He never told Keith about it. While it was rare, some soulmates found their feelings to be unrequited, and Lance knew his luck wasn’t great. Things didn’t seem to point in the right direction for him. He couldn’t bear the thought of Keith rejecting him, or knowing for sure that he’d never have a true love. It was easier to say nothing, to pretend he felt nothing.

If only things were that simple.

Lance found it difficult, almost impossible, to stop his feelings from growing. His friend group expanded, coming to include Keith, as if fate was taunting him. Every time he was around Keith his glowing mark threatened to give him away. 

He supposed he couldn’t hide it forever. Sooner or later someone would notice. He should’ve bene glad that it was his best friend that eventually did.

“What is that?” Hunk hissed, as he grabbed for Lance’s wrist, exposing his palm. They and their friends were having coffee at a café, and of course Lance was just as infatuated with Keith as ever. He’d kept his hands under the table for most of the day, but Hunk had caught sight of the glow when it had started up halfway through their coffees, and chased after Lance when Lance excused himself to go to the bathroom.

“Nothing, nothing!” Lance insisted, face flushed with shame. “It’s nothing.”

“Lance…” Hunk’s brow furrowed with worry as his grip softened. “How long?”

“A while,” he said, reluctant. 

“Who is it?” Hunk’s eyes pointedly held his gaze; he’d always been able to read Lance better than anyone else, and it didn’t take him long to figure it out. “Keith?”

“He doesn’t like me back.”

“Have you asked?”

Lance yanked his wrist free, feeling cornered and defensive. “I don’t need to. I just know.”

Hunk clearly disapproved, but what could he do? Interfering with someone’s soulmate was just… not really a thing people did. People gave their loved ones advice, and would sometimes push them in the right direction, but ultimately it was a private, intimate thing that was usually kept close to one’s heart. 

Lance was just being difficult about it.

He started ignoring Keith, thinking it would be easier on his weary heart. After spending so much time with him, being away from him made Lance lonely, even if he was with his other friends. But what choice did he have? The glow was becoming out of control. Sometimes it was so bright and desperate that it couldn’t be smothered by gloves.

Keith wasn’t oblivious to Lance’s torment. He wasn’t a very social guy, but he noticed things that not a lot of other people did. Namely, that Lance was ignoring him.

“Have I done something wrong?” he demanded, when he caught Lance on his own for the first time in a while. He had a tight grip on Lance’s arm, preventing Lance from escaping back into his apartment. Keith had come all the way over to confront him.

“No, I’m just…” Lance didn’t know what to say. He was wearing gloves, but he could feel the glow brightening. It always happened when Keith was around now. 

“Just what?”

“I don’t know!” Lance pulled his arm free, flustered and angry and frustrated with himself. He didn’t want to have this conversation. He wanted to go inside and shower and drink tea and let himself be miserable. “Why did you even come here?”

“To talk to you.” Keith’s frown was growing frustrated, his shoulders tensing. “Was it something I did? Something I said?”

“No.”

“Then why are you ignoring me?”

Lance swallowed. He could hear his heart pounding between his ears as he tried to think of the right words to say. There was hurt in Keith’s voice, something that felt like a knife twisting between Lance’s ribs. He hadn’t meant to hurt Keith.

Before he could say anything, something unexpected happened.

Keith’s neck began to glow. Sitting partially obscured by the collar of his leather jacket, a marked appeared on his skin, one that was eerily similar to Lance’s – a swirling shape, unique only to him and his soulmate, something that could’ve been a flame or a wave or both. And there it was, something deeply familiar to him, marking Keith’s throat like a bruise.

As if sensing the glow of the mark, Keith’s hand jerked up to cover it. He took several steps back when Lance tipped forwards, drawn in by the mark.

“Is that…?” Lance trailed off.

Keith winced, his face reddening. 

Lance hesitated, but then with quick, twitchy gestures, he yanked off his gloves. The mark on his palm was glowing brighter than ever, brighter than Keith’s. He spread his fingers and stared at it, clear as day on his skin. 

“That’s my mark,” Keith said, fixated on Lance’s palm.

“It’s mine,” Lance countered. 

Keith met his eyes, shocked. “It’s bright… How long have you known?”

“A while.”

“How long?” Keith pressed.

“A while,” Lance repeated. He didn’t want to get into it. 

“You should have told me,” Keith said, deflating a little, the shock easing out of his expression. “I’ve been wearing stupid scarves for ages now.”

Lance frowned, confused. Scarves? To hide the mark? “Why?”

“Because I thought you didn’t like me. And then you started ignoring me.”

Lance flushed. “I thought you didn’t like me,” he said. His mark was brighter than Keith’s – he’d liked Keith for longer. But Keith’s mark was still glowing. That counted for something. After hesitating for another moment, Lance asked, “Do you want to come in?”

A flash of relief touched Keith’s face. “If you don’t mind.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Keith asked, eyes searching Lance’s face. He wasn’t asking about coming in.

Lance smiled. “Yeah, okay.”


	9. Keith/Lance - Fiercely

Lance wasn’t surprised by how possessive a mate Keith was. He found it quite flattering, in fact. Many fire fey had harsh, fierce personalities, and they were known to be incredibly protective of their mate, even more so than other fey. 

Water fey were generally more at ease about such things. They liked to lounge around, and were as adaptable as the water itself. Of course, water fey could also be quite serious and poised, and generally carried a strong sense of responsibility. But Lance was learning to leave a bit of that responsibility in Keith’s hands, now that they were mated. It was somewhat unusual for fire and water fey to mate, but he didn’t care. He knew Keith was perfect for him, and Keith treated him like he was a precious gem.

Still, it was interesting to see some of Keith’s fiery instincts surface. If other fey stared at Lance for a little too long, he’d growl and flash his wings, a gesture that told other suitors to stay away. Fire fey had a good sense of smell, so he’d leave his scent all over Lance to mark him as mated, and to warn others off. He’d frequently renew the mating bite on Lance’s neck too, often at random times of the day. He liked to come up behind Lance and hold him still as he bit down on the mark.

Lance was always filled with a feeling of guilty pleasure when Keith did things like that. He liked feeling treasured, and liked the way Keith so fiercely claimed him as a mate. He was just as protective in return of course, growing jealous when others payed attention to Keith, or becoming lonely if Keith didn’t pay attention to him. But he liked Keith’s intensity, and never told him off for being possessive.

He thought that maybe that was one of the things Keith really liked about him. He knew that Keith had abandonment issues, that he’d never really felt like he had a place or a person to call his own. The fact that Lance let him exert his possessive instincts as much or as little as he needed was probably quite pleasing and reassuring. Keith could do whatever he wanted to make himself feel like Lance was his. And in return, Lance was allowed to be as affectionate with Keith as much as he wanted.

That was certainly something he liked about Keith. He was a very touchy person, and thrived on physical contact. At first, Keith had been so unused to contact that he’d shy away, unsure how to interpret or accept it. He’d become used to it now, especially after they mated, and didn’t care if Lance draped himself all over him, or clung to him incessantly. 

In many ways, they were perfect for one another Lance knew that he could be annoying to others, that his need for attention could be a bit much. And Keith knew that his aversion to contact and his fiery instincts didn’t make for the best combination. Somehow, however, it worked perfectly for them. There was a balance, a sense of equality they shared. If one lacked something, the other more than made up for it.

It didn’t matter what others thought, when it came down to it. There were always going to be questions, always going to be second glances – fire and water wasn’t meant to get along. But Lance didn’t care. As long as Keith was happy, and knew that he was loved, what did it matter? He made Lance feel just as loved, after all.


	10. Keith/Lance - Puncture

“Okay, I’m getting a little tired of being stabbed in my sleep.”

“I don’t mean to. And it’s not stabbing.”

“Tell that to all the holes in my neck.”

“They’re puncture marks.”

“Stab wounds.”

“Bites.”

“Stabbing me with your teeth is still stabbing me.”

Keith scowled.

Lance scowled back. He traced his fingertips over his neck, feeling the newest marks, a pair of them. The downside of having a vampire for a boyfriend was that they had a thing for necks. “You need to get your night bites under control.”

Keith had the decency to look a little flushed at that. “I know. I’m sorry.”

Lance sighed, and beckoned Keith over, holding out his arms for the pouting vampire. He knew that Keith couldn’t exact control it, no more than Lance could control his snoring, or any twitches he made in his sleep. It was entirely involuntary. 

“I don’t mean to bite,” Keith murmured, as he let his hands wander down Lance’s sides, clutching at him through the thin, transparent robe he wore. He nosed at Lance’s neck, dragged his tongue over the fresh wounds. “You just taste so good.”

“Uh huh.” A small smile touched Lance’s lips despite himself. He reached a hand back and threaded his fingers through Keith’s thick hair. “You’re lucky I love you.”

Keith smiled against his skin, humming. 

“Are you still hungry?” Lance asked. Since they’d gotten together, Keith had taken to drinking only from Lance, or from pre-packaged blood. It could be a rather intimate thing, feeding on someone. It wasn’t a requirement that Keith only feed on Lance, but Lance liked that he did. It made him feel wanted, desirable. 

“No, I’m alright for now,” Keith said. He kissed Lance’s cheek once before heading to pull a shirt on. “Don’t you have a client to get ready for this morning?”

Lance waved a hand. “Nothing wrong with being fashionably late,” he teased, smiling. Most of his clients knew he’d show up sooner or later. He was usually late for a good reason. Making potions and drafting spells to perfection took time, after all. And he was good at delivering perfection to his clients. Any witch worth their word had to be.

“I still don’t understand why anyone bothers scheduling a time when you show up late to everything.”

“Fashionably late,” Lance corrected. “And not everyone is as impatient as you, babe.”

Lance’s work was how they met. He generally made a point of not dating his clients, but Keith was incredibly attractive, and he wasn’t a great client. When they’d met, he’d never gone to a witch before. Never needed to. But he’d contracted a vampiric disease through contaminated blood, and needed a potion to cleanse his systems. Lance had provided it, of course, but Keith hadn’t been very appreciative. Just hungry and in pain, for the most part.

Somehow, they’d worked out. Even with their competitiveness and their stubborn streaks, they suited one another. 

“And besides,” Lance continued, “don’t you want to spend more time with me? I can go if you want.”

“Stay,” Keith rumbled, eyes flashing red. So possessive. “Have breakfast, at least.”

Lance smiled. He liked spending time with Keith, and always made time for him around work when his clients were coming in thick and fast. He’d scheduled his first client of the day for a time well after breakfast, not that Keith knew that. But how could he not want to spend time with his lovely, bitey boyfriend?

“Shall we get something to eat, then?” Lance asked, offering a hand.

Keith kissed his knuckles. “Of course.”


	11. Keith/Lance - Silks

“This is incredibly unfair,” Lance said, as he impatiently waited for Allura to finish fixing traditional silks over his arms. He was wearing a simple royal tunic, and the silks were affixed over the top like a cloak, wrapping around his wrists and hips with featherlike ease. The silks were so transparent that his skin was visible through it: his arms, the hip cut-outs, the exposed curve of his lower back and shoulder blades. 

“So you’ve said.” Allura wound the last ribbon into place and stepped back, looking him over with a critical eye. “Turn.”

He begrudgingly spun, lifting his arms to waist height. “Well?”

“You look fine,” she said. “Like a prince.”

“I am a prince.”

“My point exactly.”

He sighed, and turned to look at himself in the mirror. He was wearing his usual royal jewellery – his golden diadem, his matching bangles. He’d worn these clothes before, too. But they felt foreign on his body, like they weren’t entirely his. It wasn’t unusual for him to wear clothes that were more revealing than these but he still felt vulnerable and exposed.

“It won’t be for long, Lance,” Allura reassured, as she sighed. “I know you do not like it, but it must be done.”

He pursed his lips but nodded. Ultimately, he knew this was his duty as prince. Discomfort or not, he was the only one of his bloodline who carried the information their allies needed. Unfortunately. 

“How long until the moon is at its peak?” Lance asked. He fiddled with his sleeves for a moment, straightening them, smoothing out any wrinkles. 

“A few minutes.”

“Well, I suppose I better get moving, then.”

“Good luck,” she said.

As if he needed it. The maps would shine through whether he wanted them to or not, as they did every time the moon was high and the tide was full. It was valuable – he was valuable. All he had to do was stand there and let others read the maps, no matter how much it made him feel like a showpiece, a silent statue. 

He took the walk down to the viewing room by himself, leaving Allura to her own devices. As the first born it should have been her who developed the maps, but the moonlight revealed them on his skin instead. He thought it had to do with the scar on his back, but it was a secret thought of his. He’d received the wound when he’d jumped in front of Coran, their advisor and caretaker, a few years ago. An explosion had ripped through Lance’s armour, staining his back with burns like spilt wine. The remaining scar was a starburst of discoloured skin, and within it, the maps had manifested and spread.

Every generation of royal blood produced someone who had the maps. They were invisible during the daylight, and could only be seen by strong, pure moonlight, when the ocean and sky were at their most powerful. The maps glowed like stars, like the marks under the eyes of all those with Altean blood. Sometimes the glow was so bright it would project the maps on surrounding walls, glowing like fireflies, soft and gentle and alluring. 

To be fair, the maps were less like maps and more like constellations. Lines, dots, thin circles and pointed arrows, little stars and curved shapes that could easily be mistaken of crescent moons. They were beautiful, that was easy to admit. Lance knew he had a smattering of dots like freckles across his nose and cheeks, and that lines travelled down the curve of his spine. There were dotted arches spiralling his thighs and hips, and circles down the lengths of his arms. 

His marks had been charted down on paper, just as they had been for all those that came before him. He’d stared at them for hours the first time he’d seen them, unused to seeing the marks flat. There was no way for him to read their secrets, but others could. He was just their host.

Every now and then, someone called for the maps to be read. Lance would wear his traditional silks, ones light and translucent enough to allow the maps to show through, and stand still while others observed him. He didn’t like it, but it had to happen.

The viewing room was located just outside of the palace, towards the sea. An open pavilion had been built with a podium in the centre, somewhere for people like Lance to stand. Two thin columns rested the perfect hands-length apart, leaving him somewhere to comfortably rest his palms while he stood.

He arrived in the viewing room and found it already occupied. His father, King Alfor, waited patiently for him, as did Coran, who offered him a reassuring smile. Their guests were there, too.

Lance didn’t know too much about the Galra. Some were bad, others less so. Altea had an alliance with a faction called the Blade, which consisted of Galra and half-Galra insurgents. He recognised the tribal symbol on the blades these Galra carried, marking them as members of the Blade of Marmora. He’d never met them before, and there were no familiar faces.

But one seemed different to the others. He didn’t look entirely Galra, though he had the fluffy ears and angular features. His body shape was more like an Altean’s, though he was taller than Lance, his shoulders broader. He met Lance’s eyes and Lance felt a strange thrill zip through him.

“Lance,” his father beckoned.

Lance headed for the podium, like he’d been trained to do. A decorative skylight carved into the pavilion’s ceiling let moonlight stream in. He stepped into the light and rested his palms on the columns, trying not to focus on how intensely the younger Galra was staring at him.

It took a moment, but soon the maps appeared, lured out by the moonlight. Patterns scattered across the pavilion, glancing across the forms of Altean and Galra alike. Lance closed his eyes, trying to let the world fade away. He had to hold perfectly still so that the glowing projections didn’t wobble. 

“Woah,” came the first response, from the youngest Galra. Lance opened his eyes, watching him take a step closer, his eyes fixed on Lance. For some reason, that look made him flush. Most people focused on the projections – that’s what the other Galra were doing – but this Galra was looking at him, only him. It made him flinch a little, the projections jerking. It was an embarrassed flinch.

“Steady now, Lance,” Alfor said, an undercurrent of amusement hiding in his voice.

Lance steadied himself. He could feel the moonlight like a physical touch on his skin, shining through his silks to light up his maps. He wasn’t very interested in reading them, and let the Galra’s hushed discussions filter over his mind like wind. 

He was, however, interested in the younger Galra, the one who was still staring at him, eyes fervently exploring the marks on Lance’s skin. He’d come closer, and now Lance could see the violet colour of his eyes, and a smooth scar on his cheek. 

“Your name?” Lance asked, voice quiet enough not to draw the attention of the others as the Galra drifted even closer. 

“Keith,” the Galra said. He seemed to snap back to himself after that, and bowed at the waist. “It’s an honour to meet you, Prince Lance.”

The corner of Lance’s mouth lifted. “You sound so stiff.”

“You look stiffer.”

Lance had to fight off a laugh at that. He supposed Keith was right – and he liked the humour. It seemed more natural than the polite introduction. “How long are you staying for?” he asked.

“Long enough,” Keith replied, eyes alight with curiosity.

Lance grinned. His evening was suddenly looking better. “How interesting.”


	12. Keith/Lance - Waterfall

“I hope you know I’m protesting everything about this,” Lance said for, quite probably, the tenth time that hour. He just wanted his boyfriend to know how unpleasant he was finding this entire situation. In fact, if it hadn’t been Keith who asked him to do this, he definitely would have said no.

“It’s not that much further,” Keith said. He was paying no mind to Lance’s whining, despite Lance’s best efforts to get his attention – he was used to it. Lance did tend to whine a lot.

“How much further is not much further?” Truth be told, Lance didn’t exactly hate hiking. He was pretty athletic, and liked to explore, but his preferences were for the sea and not the land. As a siren, the water was his home, his calling. He could swim faster than any normal man could run. Send him hiking up a mountainside, however, and he felt like he was walking through mud.

“Ten more minutes. Think you can manage?”

On any other occasion, Lance would have taken that as a challenge. He and Keith were rather competitive with one another. However, he could tell that Keith wasn’t teasing him, and that he was generally concerned for Lance’s health. The only reason he’d strayed this far from the sea was because of Keith, after all. 

“I wouldn’t say no to a ride,” Lance said, hesitance in his voice. 

Keith drew him closer, one hand cradling the back of Lance’s head. “You shouldn’t push yourself,” he cautioned. “I’m more than capable of carrying you.”

Lance gave him a small smile. He never wanted to burden Keith, but he knew that Keith didn’t see it that way. “Alright then.”

“Hold my jacket.”

Lance did. He supposed it came in handy for a siren like him to have a werewolf boyfriend like Keith. He didn’t understand everything about werewolves, but Keith’s clothes stayed intact throughout his transformation, and after a moment of uncomfortable bone-popping noises, a six-foot wolf stood in front of Lance.

He slipped Keith’s jacket on over his, knowing riding on Keith would leave him cold, and waited for Keith to crouch down before clambering onto his back. He had thick, coarse fur that was softer than it looked, and the same violet eyes he had in his human form. Keith stood, and Lance dug his fingers into that thick fur, squeezing his knees gently against Keith’s sides to keep himself steady.

After giving Lance a moment to tighten his grip, Keith took off running. The muscles in his back were powerful; Lance could feel every one of them moving and stretching as he ran. Lance closed his eyes against the wind and pressed his face between Keith’s shoulder blades, listening to the sounds of the forest fly by.

They were heading to a small waterfall high up on the mountain side. The water produced in its depths was said to have healing properties, and was known as one of the purest sources of water on the continent. They had to get a sample of it to heal Shiro. He’d developed a strange fever that his mate, Adam, thought he might have contracted from blood he’d gotten on him from a recent battle. 

Lance was worried for him, which is why he’d agreed to come with Keith. As a siren, he would have better control over the water, and would be able to swim to the bottom of the waterfall’s lagoon with ease. The hardest part for him was getting there, but with Keith, that hardship was made easy.

Eventually they reached the lagoon. Keith’s speed shaved more than two thirds off the hiking time. He came to a stop by the water’s edge and bent to allow Lance off his back. Lance could sense the water like a caress against his skin, and it eased the knot in his chest that always formed when he was so far from the ocean. 

As he took his shoes off, Keith shifted back. His hands ran up Lance’s arms and carefully eased his jacket off Lance’s shoulders. “You’ll be alright down there?” he asked.

Lance grinned, and accepted the kiss Keith pressed to his cheek. “Perfectly at home."


	13. Keith/Lance - Kingpin

Lance was used to mobsters coming into his family’s restaurant. It was sort of… neutral territory. All the kingpins in the city liked the food there, and the only thing they would ever agree on was that there was no gunfire or knives in the restaurant. Once, when Lance was too young to work, a group of petty criminals had tried to rob the place. They’d shot at his father and held his mother hostage, a gun to her temple while they emptied the cash register. 

The mobs had been so infuriated that they’d hunted down and killed all the people involved. They’d also used their own money to repair the restaurant, and made it clear to the underworld that anyone who threatened the McClains would not live to see morning.

It afforded them a sense of security. His family never had any problems with any of the squabbling mobs, and never had problems with criminals. It helped that none of his family members had any inclination to move up in the underworld hierarchy. They were entirely content on serving good food, and earning a moderately honest living.

Lance was old enough to work in the restaurant now. Sometimes he cooked, but he mostly worked front of house. “You have a face the customers like,” his mother would always say, teasingly pinching his cheeks. “A perfect smile!”

He supposed he did like working the floor more than cooking. He’d wait on tables, seat customers, take orders and run food. When the mobs came in, they always wanted to chat, so he’d flit around their tables and listen to them. He knew a lot of things other people would probably be killed for knowing, but he was a McClain, and everyone knew they were only interested in the restaurant business.

That evening, Lance was waiting for a certain mob to arrive. The Shirogane clan spent the first Thursday of every month at the restaurant, enjoying food and wine for hours. The last few times they’d come in, they’d brought someone new with them, someone Lance had never met before – a man his age, who was the new right-hand man for the boss, Takashi Shirogane. Lance only learned his name from whispers he’d caught from other diners: Keith.

He was quite quiet, only speaking to place his order and thank Lance for bringing it out. Up close, he was very handsome, with his dark hair and the angular planes of his face. It seemed like no one really knew where he’d come from or who his parents were, but his loyalty to Takashi Shirogane was unwavering, and apparently many had fallen to the sharp side of his signature dagger.

Lance wasn’t sure why, but he quickly grew fond of Keith. Maybe it was because they were close in age. Maybe it was because Keith was polite, despite his aloofness. It took a few visits to the restaurant, but eventually Keith started opening up to him a little. Lance always made sure he was rostered on when the Shirogane clan came to eat.

The next time they came in, the restaurant was quieter than usual. 

“Not as many employees in today?” Takashi himself asked, as Lance seated them at their usual table. Whenever a mob came in, the restaurant was cleared for them, making them the only customers. The number of staff members rostered didn’t usually change, however.

“Mama and Papa are away for the week,” Lance explained, as he passed around menus to the table of ten. “We’re closing early today, so there are less workers.”

“Oh? We’re not overstaying our welcome, are we?”

Lance gave him an easy smile. “Of course not. You’re welcome to stay for as long as you want, just like always.”

Shiro clapped him on the shoulder. “See, what did I say, boys? The McClain restaurant treats us well. What do you think, Keith?”

There was a round of teasing, muffled laughter from the mobsters as they all gave Keith a look. Lance felt oddly exposed by that laughter, and more than a little confused, but he knew better than to assume he knew the inner jokes of a mob. 

“Call me over when you’ve decided what you want,” Lance said, as the table sat. Keith glanced up at him and Lance gave him a small, embarrassed smile. 

Lance left the table and busied himself with restaurant business. He knew the mob would take a while to decide what they wanted, even though they all ordered the same thing every month. He was expecting that evening to go no differently. 

But then everything went wrong.

Lance was standing by the table with a bottle of wine when he saw something move out of the corner of his eye in the front window. His words trailed off as he watched hooded figures emerge. For a moment it was like time slowed down.

And then bullets shattered through the front windows.

Lance screamed as a searing heat shot through his arm. The wine shattered as it hit the floor. He clutched at his bicep, feeling blood seep through his fingers. His ears were ringing from the noise of guns being fired and glass breaking. It felt like it was going on forever.

Hands grabbed at him, pushing him to the floor. Someone flipped the table over, giving them cover. Lance put his hands over his ears as he tried to make himself as small as possible. He could feel someone leaning over him, covering him, their arm tucking his head close. 

As soon as it started, it ended. The acrid smell of gunpowder was thick in the air as Lance glanced up, his eyes wet. The front windows of the restaurant were completely blown out, and bullet holes riddled the walls and tables. Hardly anything was left undamaged. 

“After them!” Takashi snarled. Some of his clan – the ones left free of bullet holes – took off out of the front door. 

“Are you okay?”

Lance glanced up, shaken. Keith was crouched over him, clutching at his shoulders. He’d used his own body to shield Lance from the gunfire. 

“Here. You’re hurt.” Keith used his dagger to tear a strip of his shirt clean off, which he tied around the throbbing wound on Lance’s arm. There was anger in his eyes, but it wasn’t directed at Lance. 

“You protected me,” Lance said dumbly.

“Of course I did,” Keith said, voice gruff and… embarrassed? “Get up. I’m taking you to the hospital.”

Lance let Keith help him stand. “Thanks,” he whispered.

Keith didn’t say anything, but his grip was gentle, and the fierce, protective air around him hadn’t dispelled. He gave Shiro a look that spoke a thousand words, and Shiro only nodded at him before they left. Lance knew that the mob would clean up the restaurant for him, and that the people who’d attacked that day would be hunted down and dealt with. It was likely that all the mobs would get involved in some way – they always did when the restaurant was concerned. 

He tried not to think about that, or the burning wound on his arm. It was easier to focus on Keith, so that’s what he did.


	14. Keith/Lance - Overdosed

Lance was the first, and only, person Keith had turned.

It was entirely accidental, in the kind of way a predator might accidentally find prey when they were focused on something else. Lance had been walking home from his job at a nearby shelter like he did every night when he and Keith bumped paths. Though it was more like Keith hunted him down, in the end.

Something about Lance’s scent had turned Keith feral. To be fair, he was already half-feral that night, his eyes blood red, his fangs out in all their sharp, piercing glory. Someone else had gotten to him, had left him injured and haemorrhaging blood in a way that definitely should have been fatal. If he hadn’t found and attacked Lance, then he probably would have died.

After turning, Lance came to know that Keith was quick and efficient. He never made a mess, never spilled a drop of blood no matter how violently he took down his prey. He was the perfect predator. That night, however, he was anything but.

He snagged Lance by the shoulder before Lance even heard his footsteps. Vampires were far stronger than humans, and even in his weakened, wild state, he’d been able to pin Lance against the nearest surface and wrench his head to the side. Lance remembered that moment as if it were a painful dream: he’d stared at his own shocked, terrified face in the reflection of the window he’d been pressed again, not seeing into the dark, empty restraint beyond.

He wasn’t quite sure how much a vampire had to drink to turn someone. It was a tricky, unpredictable process. When a vampire bit someone, their fangs secreted a venom – the longer the bite lasted, the more the venom would be transferred. There was no telling how much venom was needed to turn an individual. A small amount could kill, but a large amount could turn.

However much was needed was inconsequential. Keith completely overdosed Lance. He’d since explained that something about Lance’s blood had erased any threads of control he’d had, that Lance’s blood had acted like an aphrodisiac. Keith had drained him and turned him in the same night, and had been stuck with Lance ever since.

As much as Lance wanted to hate Keith for literally killing him, he couldn’t. Something about the bond between sire and fledgling stopped him from feeling that way, no matter how much of a competitive rivalry they had. 

It helped that Keith took full responsibility for what he did, even if it was a begrudging thing on his behalf. He aided Lance through his turning, letting Lance feast on him as messily and as violently as he needed. He’d made sure Lance wouldn’t do anything he’d later regret, like killing a human, or exposing himself as a fledgling. He didn’t let Lance hurt himself either, which was something fledglings almost always tried to do to ease the pain of the turning.

Afterwards, Lance took to sticking by Keith. It was Keith’s instincts to protect his fledgling, and Lance’s instincts to stay by Keith, his sire. A lot of the time vampires only turned their lovers, since it bonded them so intimately. It was lucky they were attracted to one another in the first place, otherwise those feelings would have been awkward to deal with.

Months had passed since that night. Lance was slowly getting better at fitting in with human crowds, and didn’t always feel starved for food whenever he smelt a human nearby. He was still a bit tetchy around blood, especially if it was unexpected – like it someone got a papercut, or if a kid scraped their knee. But Keith let Lance feed from him as often as he needed, so much so that Lance hardly got his food elsewhere. Why would he, when Keith was being so lenient? Not many sires were.

He and Keith were closer now, too. Lance figured out where he could get a step above Keith, where he could find some ground to work with. Oddly enough, Keith was probably one of the best friends he’d had (though they were soon more than friends). They had stubborn streaks a mile wide and were incredibly competitive with one another. It was always interesting to see how that played out with vampire strength involved.

Lance became quite possessive of Keith, too. It was why Keith had never turned anyone else, not even when he was starving. Lance wasn’t willing to share him. Keith was the same way – he’d snarl and bare his fangs at any vampire that looked at Lance for too long. 

Was it the healthiest relationship? Definitely not. But it was what his instincts demanded. He couldn’t leave Keith, and couldn’t let anyone else have Keith. In the same way, Keith felt a need to possess him, to protect him; Keith was the one who brought him immortality, after all. Vampire morality didn’t run along the same lines as human morals did, and as far as Lance was aware, their relationship wasn’t so bad. As time passed, he would even say they had become fond of one another. Maybe more, if he wasn’t too stubborn to admit it.

Whatever it was, it worked for them. Was mutually beneficial. Food, protection, adoration – they got as much as they needed from one another. What more could an immortal dare ask for?


	15. Adam/Lance/Shiro - Predicament

Adam was in a predicament. He liked to think of himself as a pretty smart guy. He was wily, and good at squirming his way out of tough situations. Getting things done in a timely manner was something he was confident he could do. This, however. This was testing him.

“I’m going to do it,” he told Shiro, eyes fixed firmly on the omega across the park. “I’m just–I’m just going to do it. That would solve everything, I swear.”

“You will not,” Shiro said, both amused and sympathetic in a way that only he ever managed to pull off without being offensive. He slung one stupidly muscled arm around Adam’s shoulders, pulling him against his side. “Cheer up, love.”

Adam frowned. He definitely didn’t pout. “I know you want to as well,” he muttered. Who wouldn’t want to kiss such a pretty face?

“I’m not going to deny that.”

Adam stared at Lance. It was his sister’s birthday, and his entire family had been invited, along with his friends. Veronica had mutual friends with Lance, so pretty much everyone they knew was around. That was typical for Cuban parties, Adam found. They loved to celebrate, loved to spend time with family. To them, family didn’t end with blood.

It felt nice to be so included, Adam thought. He loved the energy of Lance’s family, loved the way they cared for everyone. Even if they were protective of Lance, they never made Adam feel like he was stealing Lance away from them. They treated Shiro with respect too, which was something that always ruffed Adam’s feathers the right way. A lot of families would have postured at the thought of an alpha taking away their youngest omega, but Lance’s family was very open and accepting. Ultimately, they trusted Lance’s choices.

And for some reason still unbeknownst to him, Lance had chosen them.

He wasn’t complaining, mind. The moment he’d first laid eyes on the omega he’d become infatuated. His smile, his puns, his scent – all of it endeared the omega to him in a way that nothing else ever had. It helped that his alpha liked Lance, too. He and Shiro generally ran along the same lines when it came to their tastes. 

Presently, Lance was playing with his younger cousins. He had a baby in his arms and was being led around by a pair of toddlers who were doing nothing but giggle at him. He was a real hit with the kids and it was doing stupid, stupid things to Adam’s weak, weak heart. 

Their courtship was relatively new still. Neither Adam nor Shiro wanted to push Lance, but it was times like these where Adam felt himself succumb to the complete infatuation he had with the omega. Namely, he just really wanted to kiss him for the first time. The only thing that was stopping him from throwing himself at Lance’s feet was Shiro’s steady arm around his shoulders.

Luckily for him, Lance soon came to join them under the tree they’d claimed for themselves. The park was crowded with people, but their little shady spot was quiet and calm. Adam and Shiro made space for Lance between them, where the omega immediately threw himself down.

“It’s getting warm out now, huh?” he asked, his cheeks flushed from the morning sun. 

Adam slipped his arms around Lance’s waist, cuddling the omega close. “You smell nice,” he declared, as he often did.

“I’m all sweaty,” Lance laughed, leaning away.

Adam didn’t care. He smiled to himself, content to have his omega practically in his lap. He was glad Lance was okay with public displays of affection because he could hardly help himself. 

Eventually Lance relented, laughing again as he let Adam hold him as close as he wanted. “Are you enjoying yourselves?” he asked. 

“Of course,” Shiro reassured. 

Adam nodded in agreement. He always loved spending time with Lance. Adam ducked his head to press his lips against Lance’s cheek, unable to contain his delight at simply being with his mate and his intended mate. 

Lance’s cheeks reddened even more. He tilted his chin up a little, looking hopeful and flustered, and Adam really couldn’t help himself. Lance just looked so cute! He had to kiss him, so he did. It was chaste, only a gentle press of lips to lips, but it pleased a very instinctual part of him that loved the idea of having Lance as a mate.

It was no surprise to any of them that Shiro wanted in on the action, too. He leaned over Lance’s shoulder, using one hand to tilt Lance’s chin towards him so he could give Lance an equally gentle kiss. Adam didn’t know what he liked more – kissing Lance, or watching Shiro kiss Lance. It was an impossible decision to make.

“You’re both too much,” Lance said, embarrassed when Shiro let out a pleased little rumble. 

Adam just grinned. “I think you’ll find that we’re just enough.”

“That doesn’t even make sense!”

“Made you smile, though.”

Lance grinned at him. “Smooth talker.”

Adam pulled him close again, resting his cheek against Lance’s head. Their little triad was perfect – alpha, beta, omega. He felt like he’d never been happier. Their mateship to Lance wasn’t confirmed just yet, but he was already so in love that he felt like it was.

In the end, his mates meant everything to him.


	16. Lance/Shiro - Clutch

Shiro never thought he’d be so fascinated by the way another person slept. Truth be told, he’d never actually thought about it in the first place. There was nothing that interesting about the way his past girlfriends and boyfriends slept. He didn’t think there was anything interesting about the way he slept either, except for the fact that he liked to cuddle (something said partners either really liked or really didn’t).

But the way Lance slept was interesting. Completely fascinating.

He wasn’t quite sure what it was about seeing his boyfriend asleep that pleased him so much. He supposed that part of his fascination came from the fact that he felt more for Lance than he’d felt for anyone else, ever. His heart always skipped a beat when Lance smiled at him. He had a gorgeous smile, one that was always full of energy and excitant. Shiro loved him more than he’d ever thought he’d love anyone. 

Overall, he liked seeing Lance relaxed and content, and sleep always relaxed him. He was always on the go, always moving or doing something, so sleep was one of the few times he was still and quiet. He rarely had a disturbed sleep, and didn’t often have bad or uncomfortable dreams, so he slept generally uninterrupted. 

He was fascinating to watch. Sleep made the lines of his face soften, made his features look even smoother. Sometimes he drooled a little and even though Shiro shouldn’t have found that cute, he did. Lance snored a bit, but it wasn’t loud, and it had never been enough to wake him up or anything. Despite all of that, Lance’s sweetest habit was the fact that he wanted to hold hands in his sleep.

It was a strange habit for sure, but Shiro loved it. Lance was always clutching at something in his sleep, whether it was the sheets, or his pillow, or sometimes even his own hands. He didn’t know he did it, but he always held something. Lately, when it’d been late and Shiro had been up reading or something in bed while Lance was asleep beside him, he’d taken to reaching for Lance’s hands himself. He liked the way Lance clutched at him, the way he held Shiro’s fingers even in sleep, grip gentle. 

Shiro often woke up with Lance’s palm pressed against his. Fortunately for him, Lance loved his habit of grabbing for him in his sleep, and didn’t mind it when Shiro wrapped him up like an octopus. Their sleeping habits matched. He liked waking up pressed as close to Lance as he could manage, liked knowing they were connected and drawn to one enough even in sleep. 

Something about having Lance there, so close and warm against him, comforted his mind and body like nothing else ever had. Even when he was awake, and Lance was asleep, he felt the strangest feeling of safety when he had Lance’s hand in his. 

There was nothing else in the world quite like it.


	17. Keith/Lance - Bottle

Lance was just minding his own business. So what if it was nearing midnight, and he was taking out the trash, and was also crying because some creep at work had decided to treat their waiter like a cheap errand boy? If he wanted to do all those things then it was his own damn, pathetic business.

And even if he didn’t want to be doing those things, he was certainly doing them anyway.

Angrily, he wiped his face on his apron, but it did little to help the whole wet-face issue he currently had. His apron was just as wet, after all. His table had thought it was funny to “accidentally” spill a tray of drinks on him. All he’d been trying to do was set the drinks down on the table but no, that idiot just had to purposefully stick his leg out at Lance’s ankles. The resulting mess had made the entire diner go silent. Lance felt like he could still hear the glass shattering in his head, over and over.

It was common knowledge among all wait staff that some days were just going to suck. A lot of people treated waiters like idiots, equating their job to a certain low level of intelligence, no matter how smart or educated wait staff were. As a matter of fact, most of the people Lance worked with were fellow university students. Shitty jobs with odd, late hours were all they could manage around classes and exams. 

“Stupid, condescending prick,” Lance muttered, voice dripping with venom as he heaved another trash bag into the industrial bin behind the diner. He was usually the last person to volunteer for trash duty at the end of a long night shift, but that evening he’d wanted the fresh air. As fresh as air could get near the dumpsters, in any case. 

Lance swore he was going to quit work every time he had a shift like this. Shitty customers, shitty comments shouted after him, shitty tips. What was the point in staying?

Money. Money was the damn point. 

Being a broke university student sucked almost as much as the job. Almost.

With another exaggerated, vaguely snotty groan, he threw the last trash bag up and over the lip of the bin. Was he at all surprised when the bag got caught on a bit of metal? No. Was he surprised when said bag ripped, and trash went flying all over the place? Nope. Did he start crying again?

Unfortunately.

In a huff, he picked up an empty water bottle and hurled it as far into the dark as he could manage. Predictably, it didn’t go very far – it was empty after all. The lot behind the diner led to a weedy little park. He knew there was play equipment for kids there, but the paint was peeling, the plastic was bubbled and burnt in places were hooligans set lighters to it, and there was rust on the swing set chains, so no kids ever went there. Some people walked their dogs there instead, or around it, where a path curved through the trees. At night it was generally abandoned or housing a few sketchy characters trading who-knows-what with light-fingered hands.

That evening, it seemed like something was in it.

Lance expected the bottle to stay wherever it had ended up. A guilty part of him would likely insist he go to find it after he cleaned up the mess he’d already made by the bin.

He didn’t expect it to be brought back to him. He heard the plastic crunch and froze, wondering if this was the night he was going to get stabbed beside a trashcan. It would be fitting, all things considered.

Instead, however, it was a dog that brought him the bottle back. The dog was big, its fur dark, but its eyes were unnervingly bright and intelligent. It came all the way up to his hip in height which was no small feat, considering Lance was lanky and tall. For a moment he was apprehensive, wondering if it was friendly, but he spotted a red collar around its neck, and guessed that someone owned it. Since it didn’t seem frightened or intimidated by him, it was probably friendly. The fact that it brought the bottle right back to his feet was a good indicator, too.

“What, you want to play fetch?” Lance sniffled, bending to pick up the empty bottle again. “I’m not really in the mood, dog.” He hurled it back into the dark and jumped when the dog immediately took off, running much faster than he expected.

Again, it brought the bottle back to him, crunching on the plastic like it was a chew toy. Its tail was slowly starting to wag.

“Fine. Fine. Why not?” He picked up the bottle again, ignoring the drool, and threw it. The same thing as before happened.

Oddly enough, playing fetch with the strange dog cheered him up a bit. In between throwing the bottle and having it brought back, he cleaned up the trash, and shut the bin. His apron dried and so did his face, eventually, though his sniffle persisted. 

When he was done cleaning, the dog seemed more comfortable around him. It let him pat behind its ears as he fished through its thick fur for its collar, twisting the tag around to see the name on the front and the number engraved on the back.

“Cosmo,” he said, watching the dog’s ears perk up at the sound of its name. “That’s you, huh? Here, fetch.” He tossed the bottle once more and Cosmo took off. While the dog was preoccupied, he fished his phone out of his pocket, and called Cosmo’s owner.

“Hello?” came a grouchy voice.

“Yeah, hi. I think I’ve found your dog? Cosmo.”

“Thank god. Where are you? I’ll come get him.”

Lance described the lot behind the diner and waited for Cosmo’s owner to arrive. He played fetch with the dog in the meantime, willing his swollen eyes to cool down. One of his co-workers came out to check on him but left him be, knowing he needed the air. They’d all suffered through shitty shifts at one point or another.

It took about ten minutes for a guy to appear. His footsteps were the first thing Lance heard before he appeared in the light cast by the diner. He was wearing a leather jacket, and had a folded leash in hand. 

Lance stopped throwing the bottle, so Cosmo sat at his feet as his owner approached. “He yours?” Lance asked.

“Yeah,” the guy said, sounding relieved. “He can jump my back fence, apparently.”

That made Lance laugh a little. Cosmo was quite big, and seemed very athletic. “He just wanted to play fetch,” Lance said, shaking the crumbled bottle as proof.

“Sounds about right.” The guy called his dog over, and clipped the leash to his collar after giving him a reprimanding look. He looked at Lance next, and seemed to want to say something, but frowned instead. “Were you crying?”

Lance flushed, embarrassed. “No!”

“He didn’t bite you or anything, did he?” the guy asked, concerned, as he put a hand on Cosmo’s head. “Or jump?”

“No, no, it’s not…” Lance sighed, and jerked a thumb towards the diner. “Crappy shift, you know?”

“Oh.”

“Your dog actually cheered me up. I didn’t even know he was wandering around until he brought the bottle back to me. He just wanted to play.”

The guy’s lips quirked up in a little smile. “Yeah, that’s just like him.” He shuffled his feet. “I’m Keith, by the way.”

“Oh, I’m Lance,” he rushed to say. “I’d offer my hand but I have literally been playing with trash for the past twenty minutes, so…”

Keith snorted. “Fair enough. Thanks for grabbing him, though.” He ruffled Cosmo’s fur. “I guess he’s not used to the new yard yet.”

“Just moved to town?”

“Yeah.” Keith glanced at the diner. “How’s the food here, by the way?”

“Oh, pretty decent,” Lance said, laughing quietly again. “So long as you’re nice to your server. I’m not saying we’ll give you a terrible table if you’re rude, but… we definitely will.”

“I’ll have to come by and eat sometime.”

“You’ll be nice?”

“I’ll be nice.”

“Good, because I would hate to have to gossip about you behind your back considering I’m now attached to your dog.”

That drew a laugh from Keith, who suddenly didn’t seem as serious and aloof as he first had. “Well, I’m sure he’ll get out again, so keep an eye out.”

Lance laughed too. “I will!”

“I’ll make sure to come by the diner some time,” Keith told him, eyes light. “Thanks for keeping Cosmo company.”

“Keep an eye out for me, too,” Lance said, as he lifted his hand in a shy wave when Keith turned to leave.

“I will,” Keith said.

Perhaps the night hadn’t been a complete right off after all.


	18. Lance/Shiro - Scars

After his accident, Shiro became well acquainted with his scars. He had more than his fair share of them now, after all. Some he couldn’t remember receiving, as if the pain of them had simply blended together at the time they inflected themselves upon his skin. 

At first, he’d hated them. The scars on his body had been a permanent reminder of his failures, of the times he hadn’t been capable of doing what he was trained to do. The scars reminded him that he was damaged, not only on the inside, but on the outside, too. They’d made him ugly, made blemishes on his skin that he’d never be able to escape.

Therapy helped him learn to live with them. That, and his missing arm. In some ways the injuries were the same, even if one had left a rather more lasting effect than the other. A scar could fade a little, over time. He couldn’t regrow his arm. When he overcome many of the mental scars left in him from war, he ones on his skin were easier to deal with.

He never learned to love them. Never would. The world wasn’t pretty like that.

But he did learn to live with them. Even the more obvious ones, like the gash across his nose, became easier to tolerate. He made himself look at them in the mirror until they looked normal and he forgot what his skin had been like without them. Thinking of them as a part of him, not damage done to him, helped a lot. 

He hadn’t had many partners after his accident. It had taken him a while to feel healthy enough to date, and even then finding someone who was interested in him proved challenging. He’d had to rebuild himself after the accident, find new hobbies and likes and dislikes. Not to mention the scars and the missing arm were things to worry about. Not everyone wanted to date a man who looked like him, and he didn’t exactly blame them. He wore his trauma on his skin.

Meeting Lance changed a lot of things for him.

Lance had scars, too. A giant starburst of discoloured skin spreading out from the centre of his back, like the silhouette of an explosion had laid across his skin and deigned to stay there forever. He’d been nervous and apprehensive about showing Shiro it the first time, but he’d wanted to do it. Revealing that part of himself freed him from any shackles it imposed on him when he was around Shiro, he’d said. 

In some ways, Shiro was surprised that Lance was so apprehensive about his scar. It was large, yes, but it paled in comparison to Shiro’s mottled skin. Shiro had a scar across his nose, a cross hatching of x’s down his back, a slash across one hip. Not to mention the scaring on his amputation site, which in truth was more scar than skin. How could Lance possibly think Shiro would love him any less because of his own imperfections?

No, Shiro loved him for him. Scars and all. 

It was relieving, in many ways, to be with someone who understand what having the scars felt like. He and Lance were so different it was hard to imagine they had anything in common, but Shiro had never felt the way he felt for Lance with anyone else. Even if he and Lance were opposites – quiet and loud, introverted and extroverted, solitary and social – they got along far better than expected. 

The scars bonded them. And for that, at least, Shiro was thankful.


	19. Hunk/Lance - Bear

Lance pawed at the ground, stirring up scents from beneath the damp leaves of the undergrowth. It had rained very recently, and he was struggling to discern scents. He knew he had to be near the next town, but how far was it? And in which direction? 

Eventually he picked a random direction and continued onwards, fervently hoping his instincts would guide him correctly. It was dangerous for a shifter like him to be out alone in the woods without the protection of a pack, but what choice did he have? Even foxes, who were almost as lone as wolves when it came to travel, had taken to sticking together. The only reason he wasn’t was because he’d been separated from his family at the last river crossing, where the water rose so sharply he’d been left on one side of the bank, his family on the other.

He’d lost their scents the previous night. He’d told them to move on, knowing his brother’s young kits couldn’t handle being out in the wilderness for so long. They were still so little, and struggled to maintain their fox form for extended periods of time. He would meet them all in the next town.

At least, that had been the plan. Then more rain had come, and their scents had been lost. 

He tried to be as careful and as quiet as he could. Poachers were becoming much more adept at finding shifters, at identifying them from their animal counterparts. He knew they’d been seen in the area – it was why his family was on the move. Foxes weren’t the best fighters. Their agile legs and small bones meant they were better at running, that they were quick enough and dexterous enough to outfox their hunters. 

As careful as Lance was being, he knew he was running on thin luck. He was looking out for human tracks, trying to scent for non-animal scents. He wasn’t focused on where he was putting his paws.

The trap snapped closed over his back leg with an audible crunch. The pain was so sudden and sharp that he yowled, struggling hard enough that the metal teeth dug harder into his skin. Blood spilled onto the ground as the bones in his leg grinded together, if not breaking completely. No matter how hard he pulled he couldn’t get his foot free. He scrambled against the ground, kicking up wet leaves and soil, but it only made the pain worse.

He’d stepped on a bear trap.

It was agony. Darkness swam around his vision as he began to pant, adrenaline wiring his body like a strike of lightning. His howling had no doubt drawn the attention of the poachers, if they were nearby. For a brief moment, his mind flashed to his parents, to his family – would they sense that he’d died? Or would they see his fur tucked around the neck of a human and realise he’d been killed?

Crashing came through the undergrowth. The scent of humans reached his nose, and it was enough to make him try to stand. The trap clattered as he moved, teeth constricting. There was no way he could move. He collapsed again, whining pitifully. 

Humans appeared through the trees, guns perched on their shoulders. They reeked like metal and decay, and only laughed when Lance snarled at them. 

“Aim for the eye,” one human said, as another steadied the gun in their hands. “Don’t want to ruin any of that pretty fur.”

“Who would’ve thought we’d nab a fox? Bet there’s more running around.”

“Kill this one. Then we’ll go after the others.”

Ice slithered through his veins. Lance snarled louder, teeth bared. His family had to be safe, even if he wasn’t. They had to be alright.

Time seemed to slow as the human placed his finger over the gun’s trigger. The moment he set to pull it, something else crashed through the trees with an ear-piercing roar. A bear barrelled towards them, larger than any bear Lance had seen before. It tore through the pair of poachers like a bullet, rounding to stand between them and Lance where it reared to its full height. It towered over him so much it bathed Lance in its shadow.

There was a surprised shout from the poachers, and the sound of the gun going off. The bullet sailed past the bear, barely grazing its fur. It released another roar, and a second bear appeared, smaller but no less powerful. The new bear swiped a paw at the poachers, knocking them down to the ground. Lance held perfectly still as it attacked the humans, only the rapid up-and-down of his chest indicating he was breathing at all.

The first bear fell back to its feet and turned to him, bending its head to sniff at Lance. It bared its teeth at the sight of the trap but didn’t hurt Lance. 

All shifters had a sense for when their own kind was around. It was more prevalent with same-species shifters, like if Lance were near other foxes, but he could tell these bears weren’t normal bears. Not only was the one in front of him way too big, but Lance could sense its conscience hovering beneath the surface of its animal form, like a second skin.

The bear wedged one paw in the open jaw of the trap, as far as it could squeeze its paw in. Ignoring Lance’s pained shrieks, it wrenched the trap open hard enough that the metal snapped clean off. Blood poured out of the open wounds, but it was off, and Lance had never felt so relieved. 

But he couldn’t feel his leg. He tried to stand but all of him was shaking so badly that he couldn’t get his feet under him. The bear huffed quietly, concerned, as it nudged Lance with its nose. When it became clear Lance couldn’t move, it closed its teeth every so carefully around the scruff of his neck, and lifted him. For something so large, it was surprisingly gentle.

Lance knew it wouldn’t hurt him.

The other bear joined them, briefly scenting Lance, before it urged them all away. 

Lance must have briefly lost consciousness, because the next thing he remembered he was in a cave, and there was a woman hovering over him. “Hold him still,” she was murmuring to the bear laying down behind him, which had one heavy paw slumped over Lance’s stomach. “I’m going to reset the bones.”

Her hands were careful as she lifted his injured leg. She gave him a sympathetic look as he whined, and in one swift movement, jerked the bone back into place. He howled so loudly he was sure the poachers would find them again, and it made him squirm, trying to get away.

The bear behind him lowered its head, bumping its nose against Lance’s snout. Its paw was so heavy he couldn’t get away from it, but it lessened the pressure anyway, giving Lance room to stretch out. 

“I’m going to treat the wounds and bandage them, okay?” the woman said.

He was in too much pain to answer, but he tried to keep himself still as she worked. He knew he was incredibly lucky to have been saved by them. Even delirious, he could recognise their efforts, could tell they’d risked being injured themselves to pry him free from the poacher’s grasp. 

The bear comforted him as the bandages were applied. It let Lance hide in its fur, and curled up around him when it began to rain outside. Thunder sounded remarkably like gunshots and Lance didn’t like hearing either. 

He drifted off again when the bandages had been applied, after burying himself in the bear’s thick fur. Its scent was comforting, and its body was warm. Lance didn’t care how embarrassed he’d be later, he just wanted to feel safe. 

Sometime during the night, Lance shifted back. He was wearing the same clothes he’d been in the last few days – a loose jumped and pants, no shoes because he’d been in a rush to get out when the poachers had come. Someone had replaced his bandages in his sleep so that they fit his human ankle better. He woke still buried in bear fur, his hands clutching desperate fistfuls.

As a fox, he’d only been the size of the bear’s leg, but he was much bigger as a human. The bear had a good few feet on him if it stood upright, but it was still curled up on the floor with one paw tossed protectively over Lance. When Lance sat up, it stirred, and pushed itself upright too. 

“You saved me,” Lance said, voice quiet and croaky. “Thank you.” 

The bear let out a soft noise and bumped its nose against Lance’s face, making him laugh quietly. He lifted his arms around its neck, breathing in its scent again. There was something almost… familiar about it, even though he knew they’d never met before. It was like something in him was calling out for the bear in a way that it never had. Lance knew of the old rumours and fairy tales about mates, where two shifters were so compatible with each other they were destined to be together, but he’d never really believed in them. 

The connection he felt to this bear was changing his opinion, and it wasn’t just because the bear had saved his life.

The woman from before reappeared, carrying a bag of fresh bread in her arms. “You’re awake,” she said, sounding surprised and relieved.

He turned his attention to her. “Yeah. Thank you for before,” he said. “I really can’t… can’t thank you enough.” 

She offered him a small smile. “How about I look at that leg again?” While she checked the wound, he heard the bear shifting back, but kept his eyes turned politely away. The woman peeled back the bandages, reapplied a salve, and then bandaged them again. “What were you doing in this forest anyway?”

“My family is passing through, but we got separated at the river,” he explained. “We were meant to meet in the town but I lost their scents…”

She nodded her head. “There’s been a lot of rain recently.”

“Lots of poachers, too,” another voice said.

Lance glanced over his shoulder. The bear had shifted into a man who looked to be the same age as him. He had the same dark hair and dark skin as the woman – mother and son, Lance guessed. He was better dressed for the weather than Lance was, and shrugged out of his jacket to lay it over Lance’s shoulder as he crouched beside him. If he noticed Lance’s flushed cheeks, then he didn’t say anything.

“I don’t think you can walk on that,” he said, looking pointedly at Lance’s ankle.

Lance had to agree with that. He flexed his foot but winced as pain burned up his leg. The salve was taking some of the edge off, but walking was out of the question. It would be marginally easier in his fox form – three legs were better than one – but he wouldn’t be able to move fast. 

“Don’t worry, we’ll take you with us,” the woman said, patting his knee. 

Lance’s heart fluttered. “Really?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you,” he breathed, eyes watery, clutching the borrowed jacket tighter around his shoulders. 

The woman gave him a soft smile. “It’s what any good person would do.”

His eyes followed her as she moved to the other side of the cave, where two backpacks sat slumped together. His gaze was quickly drawn to the shifter beside him, though. “Why?” he asked. “I mean– I really appreciate the help, but… why? Not many people would risk getting that close to poachers for a stranger.”

The shifter folded his large frame down beside Lance, who leaned towards him without realising. “I heard your cries and something just came over me,” he admitted, cheeks going red. “I’m Hunk, by the way.”

“Lance.” He hesitated, but smiled a little, trying not to seem as desperately interested as he felt. “I’ve never met a bear shifter before.”

“I’ve never met a fox.”

“You’re really strong,” Lance said, before immediately going red. Thankfully Hunk didn’t seem to notice.

“Nah, you should see my dad,” he said. “He’s bigger than me. We’re meeting the rest of the family in the next town over too, actually.”

Lance was relieved to know he wasn’t making them go out of their way.

Hunk’s mother gave them all a portion of bread, and after eating, she ushered them on their way. She and Hunk both put the backpacks on, but despite Lance’s best efforts, he couldn’t steady his ankle under him. Panic filtered through his chest as he wondered if they’d have to leave him behind.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Hunk said, a worried furrow in his brow as he fussed over Lance’s throbbing ankle. “How about you shift and I’ll carry you. That okay?”

“Okay,” Lance whispered, relieved once more to have Hunk looking out for him. 

Hunk was very careful with him as he lifted fox-Lance off the floor. He was strong enough to carry Lance’s weight with ease, and didn’t seem to mind as Lance cuddled against him, his snout tucked under Hunk’s chin. 

“You just rest easy,” Hunk whispered into his fur, one hand smoothing down his back. “I’ll protect you.”

Lance all but purred at the reassurance.

Hunk’s mother was watching them with a fond smile. “So oblivious,” she said, as she wandered past, laughing at Hunk’s confused noise. If Lance had been in his human form, he would have gone bright red.

Regardless, he couldn’t deny how protected he felt around Hunk, how warm being cuddled in his arms felt. He was safe with Hunk.


	20. Keith/Lance - Dating

Keith didn’t realise he and Lance were dating until other people said they were. The realisation was both surprising and embarrassing, two things he did not like to feel. He denied it, of course, even if he knew it was the truth.

He’d thought they’d just been… good friends, or something. He’d never had a friend like Lance, mostly because they hadn’t actually been friends at first. That had come later. At first, Lance had had a real problem with him. They were both competitive, that was easy to admit. Keith didn’t like to lose and neither did Lance, and for some reason, every interaction between them turned into a competition. 

But time had passed and they’d somehow gotten closer. The competitiveness became less spiteful and more teasing, which was something Keith liked. His friendship with Lance had been fiery and active, in the sense that they were always up to something. Shiro often remarked that the two of them made a frightfully good team, when they could stand to be around one another for long enough to pair up. Keith would agree with that.

Their friendship had been just that – a friendship. He hadn’t realised that the things they did could be perceived as more than friendly. After all, girls were really affectionate with their friends, right? Well, maybe not Pidge. Keith didn’t really know that many girls. But he’d seen Allura and Shay together, and they were close. They shared clothes and meals and talked a lot. Was it so different when he did that with Lance?

Somehow, he knew it was different. Not because they were both guys, though that misconception was a completely different issue. There were subtle differences in the way he and Lance acted with one another, things that hinted at more than just friendship. He only recognised them after someone pointed out that they were, in fact, dating. Even if they didn’t know it.

Like the way Lance leaned in to him when Keith spoke, that was different. Sometimes Lance would press closer to hear him, or even if he was just paying close attention. Their heads would bend together and they’d be in their own little world. Or like how Keith knew Lance’s complicated, essay-length coffee order by heart, and always took a sip out of it before giving it to him, even without asking because he knew Lance didn’t mind. That was different. 

This new revelation kept Keith thinking hard for a while. When it came down to it, he thought of it like this: there’s nothing he would pull back on when it came to his friendship with Lance. He still wanted Lance to lean into him, and he still wanted to steal sips of Lance’s drinks. 

But if he had the opportunity – and the permission – then he’d definitely kiss Lance.

The problem then became this: did Lance want to kiss him in return? That was another thought that kept him thinking hard. He didn’t want to lose Lance. Even just thinking about that made him unhappy. However he found himself wanting more, and that wasn’t something he could deny any longer, not when it came to Lance. 

Telling Lance about his feelings was out of the question. He decided to just assume that Lance thought they were dating, since everyone else did. 

Surprisingly, or perhaps unsurprisingly, that worked out for him.

“So you guys are dating, right?” Allura asked them, when everyone was gathered together at a coffee shop, and Keith had taken his usual sip of Lance’s drink. It seemed like everyone wanted to know the answer to her question. Keith could feel their friends lean inwards, though they tried to hide it. Eyes glanced at his face, and between him and Lance. They looked between themselves too. 

Keith resolved, in that moment, to ask Lance to date him if Lance said no. 

But then Lance shrugged, and took a sip of his drink. “I mean, yeah? We’re literally together all the time.”

It was hard to describe how he felt then, knowing that they were on the same page. That Lance felt something for him. “I thought everyone knew,” Keith said.

“Right?” 

They grinned at each other.


	21. Keith/Lance - Shoulders

Lance was definitely not ogling his boyfriend. That would be rude, he thought. Objectifying his boyfriend down to nothing more than a handsome piece of meat would be wrong. It didn’t matter if Keith was unfairly handsome on pretty much every front. He was definitely not staring.

Definitely not.

Probably.

Alright, so maybe he was. But could anyone blame him? Keith was ridiculously attractive. Stupidly attractive. As in, just looking at him made Lance stupid. He said as much to Keith once, but Keith just snorted and pushed him away, thoroughly amused by Lance’s antics. He certainly didn’t think he was as attractive as Lance was making him out to be, but that only made him more attractive. He didn’t even know how pretty he was.

Currently, Lance was (totally not) staring at Keith while he washed the dog. Cosmo was large and didn’t like getting wet, so one would think it wouldn’t be a peaceful process, not even if one was just watching. But that thought was lacking one vital part of the equation: Keith had his shirt off.

See, it was hot outside. Cosmo was too big to fit comfortably in the bathtub so the only way to wash him was to use the hose out the back, which meant there was no chance of Keith staying dry. Although they were in the shade of the large tree in the yard, there was still a decent amount of heat in the air. It was only natural that Keith would go shirtless. It was cooler, and meant he wouldn’t be stuck in a wet, sticky shirt after he was done.

And it certainly wasn’t like Lance was complaining. He had the perfect view, after all. He’d already done his chores for the morning knowing that Keith was going to be washing the dog, so now he was free to lounge around on the back porch all he wanted. Which he was doing in a rather exaggerated way, because he could.

“How’s it going?” Lance called out, as he watched Keith try to wrestle Cosmo into cooperating. The dog was half-covered in soapy suds, and had his fur sticking up in every direction possible. Lance knew from experience that it was quite the challenge. Sometimes he swore Cosmo would teleport, what with the way he squirmed out of Lance’s grip so many times.

“Could be better,” Keith called back, scowling. There were suds in his hair too, though Lance wasn’t sure when they’d gotten there. He’d been too busy staring at Keith’s very attractive shoulders. He had one of those infuriating shoulder-to-waist ratios that made him look like a Dorito, which Lance both loved and hated. 

To be honest, Lance had spent a lot of time staring at Keith’s back. Keith slept shirtless, and liked to sprawl out on top of the sheets on his stomach, so it gave Lance the perfect opportunity to look as much as he wanted. His back muscles were quite attractive – his shoulders were broad and defined, and the curve of his spine was deliciously eye-catching. Not to mention his hips. Lance loved seeing the muscles there, the way they made the back of Keith’s jeans sit away from the small of his back, the masculine v-shape at the front.

“You’re doing great, babe,” he called, eyes glued to said hips. Was it getting hotter outside or was it just him?

“I can feel you staring Lance.”

“I did my chores, I’ve earnt this.”

Keith rolled his eyes, but he didn’t seem to mind Lance’s staring all too much. He never complained, and never asked Lance to stop, or even to tone it down a notch or two. In fact, he seemed rather okay with Lance’s blatant admiration of him. Sometimes Lance swore he took off his shirt just to short-circuit Lance’s brain.

“Well, I hope you’re enjoying the view,” Keith muttered, as Cosmo shook out his fur, drenching him.

“Oh, I am,” Lance purred. “Very much.”

Keith flushed, and sent Lance a withering look.

Lance only laughed. “Finish with the dog and I’ll give you a reward. How’s that?”

“What’s the reward?”

“Whatever you want,” Lance teased.

Keith smirked. “I’ll keep you to that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the string of short chapters (there might be a few more coming up) - I'm only two days away from finishing my creative writing bachelor, so I've been working on manuscripts like crazy alongside my daily writing ^^"


	22. Hunk/Lance - Besotted

Most people expected Lance to do one of two things when it came to finding a mate: fall over his feet chasing after a pretty face, or get a big, strong leader-type to chase him in return. To be fair, it did seem like the kind of thing he’d do. He liked to flirt and liked the teasing chase of a relationship, no matter if he was the one doing the chasing or not.

But that wasn’t exactly what he was doing now, not truly. He couldn’t deny that he still liked to flirt, but he never really intended for it to go anywhere. It was harmless. It was just in his nature; he was a naturally social guy. And maybe if he’d been in the market for a mate, then his flirting might’ve gotten him somewhere. 

He was already besotted with someone, though, which is why it never did.

Sometimes he felt like a walking cliché. Falling in love with his best friend was perhaps the most cliché thing he could’ve ever done, and yet here he was, hopelessly infatuated. To be fair, again, who wouldn’t fall in love with Hunk? He was effortlessly lovable and he didn’t even know it.

They’d been friends since they were toddlers. Lance’s mother knew Hunk’s mother, and since they were friends, their kids became friends, too. They were the closest in age, despite the fact that Lance had four siblings, all of whom were older than him. He and Hunk were in the same grade at school, and always in the same class. They were always together.

Lance supposed it was sort of natural for him to fall for Hunk. After all, no one knew him better than his best friend. Hunk had been with him through thick and thin, had seen Lance at his best and worst. It was the same the other way around, too. Lance knew everything about Hunk. Well, at least he thought he did. 

Point was, they were close. They spent all their time together. Always had. He’d loved him before he presented as an omega, and before Hunk presented as an alpha. Sometimes Lance thought that he’d always been in love with Hunk, because he couldn’t pinpoint the moment when he first realised he loved him. 

His pining over Hunk was a recent thing, all things considered. They were lounging around Hunk’s kitchen on a lazy, cold afternoon. Well, Lance was lounging. Hunk was busy baking, as he often did when he was stressed or tired or nervous. He had an important interview coming up and cooking a thousand cookies seemed to be the only way he was coping. There wasn’t anything unusual about that afternoon, but Lance was feeling all domestic and warm and just… in love with his best friend. 

“What are you going to do with all of these?” Lance asked, eyeing the mountains of cookies slowly stacking up on plates around him.

“Feed them all to you?”

Lance snorted. “I’ve already eaten twenty, I really don’t know how many more I can stomach.” Still, he found himself flushing a little, despite the fact that he was uncomfortably stuffed full of cookies. Alphas would sometimes offer food to omegas they wanted to court, and homemade food was the best sort of food to give. Hunk was always feeding Lance, but he was still flustered. Who wouldn’t be, when the alpha they liked was treating them so well?

“I’ll probably give most of them to the volunteer group at university, they’re holding a fundraiser in a few days,” Hunk said, as he pulled another tray out of the oven. “But I’ll save some for you, don’t worry.”

Lance smiled, unable to help himself. It was harder and harder to stop himself from purring around Hunk – something that would definitely give away his feelings for the alpha. “Your cookies are the best,” he sighed.

“You flatter me,” Hunk said.

“I’m serious!”

Hunk laughed. He had a delightful laugh, one that made Lance grin, all giddy and red. “I know you are,” Hunk reassured. “I like cooking for you, since you eat everything.”

Lance flushed again. Hunk smiled at him.

He just liked everything about Hunk.


	23. Keith/Lance - Warm

Sometimes, hot days during the middle of summer led to hot nights that Lance absolutely hated. It was the kind of heat that was pressing and relentless, the kind that made everyone sweaty and cranky even if the air conditioner was on and they didn’t step a single foot outside.

He usually didn’t mind the heat. He liked summer, liked the sun, liked having beach days and backyard parties. Summer meant he could wear light clothes too, which he liked. It meant Keith would take his shirt off more often, which was also nice. It was fun when they cooled off Cosmo out the back with the hose.

But it wasn’t all fun. They had a terrible air conditioner, one that had to be replaced, but they hadn’t gotten around to that. Sometimes it struggled to cool the house down so much that all it did was add to the heat. He and Keith would close all the curtains and doors during the early morning in an effort to keep the house cool and that often worked better than the air conditioner. 

Cosmo struggled in the heat, too. He had really thick fur and even though he often got trimmed during the warmer months, he did tend to overheat. He was allowed inside more often when it was hot, and he would shed all over the couch and their clothes. Lance loved him but his fur really did get everywhere it wasn’t meant to.

He was thinking about ways to keep the house cool as the days started to warm up. First, they’d definitely have to get the air conditioner replaced. He and Keith had agreed to do that when it warmed up. They’d have to keep the curtains closed on the hotter days, which meant he’d have to start checking the weather forecast the night before. Cosmo was due for his first trim of the summer soon too. 

Oddly enough, Lance was looking forwards to it warming up outside, even with all the trouble the heat caused. He liked the warmth more than the cold, and he liked being able to go to the beach, or to parks, or on picnics. Summer was the perfect time to spend his days lounging around with Keith, which was something he’d never say no to. 

And sometimes, convincing Keith that the summer heat was good was the best part of it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had my last class for my creative writing bachelor today! I did my manuscript reading and I think it went alright, I remembered to breathe while I was speaking haha. It's strange to think that I finished such a big part of my degree already!


	24. Hunk/Lance - Yet

Lance sneezed, and let out a groan as it made the pressure in his head swell. He’d lost count of how many times he’d sneezed that morning. That night? He’d lost track of the time, too, and stuck one hand out from beneath his nest of blankets to slap a hand around for his phone. It was mid-morning now; he’d only been able to sleep for a few hours at a time.

Being sick was terrible.

There were a few missed messages from Hunk, his best friend, and his parents. He’d sent them all a text message at some point earlier that day to warn them he’d been struck down by a cold. He knew Hunk was heading off to a family thing that day and had meant to see him beforehand, and he always called his parents at some point. He couldn’t do either when he was sneezing his head off.

A stuffy sigh escaped him. It was just the time of year when everyone was getting sick. A nasty cold was making its rounds through his dorm block, so Lance supposed it was no surprise that he’d gotten sick eventually.

Knowing he’d need to stay hydrated, he dragged himself from bed, and went to fetch a glass of water. His head spun as soon as he was upright. It was a very unpleasant sensation, one that followed him all the way to his small kitchenette and back. As much as he knew he should eat something, even if it was just a little, he couldn’t to get anything from the pantry. He just grabbed his water and then all but threw himself back into bed, unable to stand for a single moment longer. 

Time passed strangely when he was sick. Sometimes he felt like he’d been asleep for hours but it had only been minutes. He was miserable and lonely and sweaty and just wanted to feel better already.

At some point, he woke to the sound of his front door opening. He’d given his spare key to Hunk, so he knew who it was straight away.

“Hey buddy,” Hunk said, voice soft, as he came to find Lance. “How you feeling?”

“Terrible,” Lance moaned. He could hardly keep his eyes open.

Hunk sat down on the edge of his bed, pressing his palm to Lance’s cheek. “You feel warm,” he mumbled, more to himself than to Lance. “You just rest up, okay? I’m going to make you some food.”

“I thought you had a family thing,” Lance croaked, staring up at Hunk.

“They can live without me for one day,” Hunk said, gently pushing Lance’s hair away from his forehead. Lance gave him a small, grateful smile, and tilted his head into Hunk’s palm. He and Hunk had always been close, but lately their friendship had deepened in a way he couldn’t really explain. Lance had stopped looking for dates, starting bringing Hunk to more family events. And Hunk had taken to spending the night more, or cooking the two of them dinner.

It was nice, Lance thought. Whatever it was, he wanted it. Wanted what it was slowly becoming. He trusted Hunk more than he trusted anyone. He was sure Hunk felt the same, even if neither one of them were brave enough to mention it. 

Yet.

“Try and get some sleep, okay?” Hunk pat Lance’s hand, and tucked the covers over him properly, before standing. “I’ll just be in the kitchen if you need more.”

“Thank you,” Lance murmured, already drifting back to sleep again.

“Anything for you,” Hunk said.

Lance knew he meant it.


	25. Lance/Shiro - Together

Shiro hadn’t mated Lance, but he wanted to.

Perhaps that was putting it bluntly. He really did like the omega, though. He hadn’t at first, but Lance had unknowingly worked his way into Shiro’s heart, and there was no way to get rid of him now. Shiro was in too deep before he’d even noticed he’d taken the first step. Truthfully, what wasn’t there to like? Lance was kind, and supportive, and friendly. He was gorgeous too, in every sense of the word. Shiro was just as attracted to what was on the outside as he was on the inside. 

He wasn’t exactly sure how to go about asking Lance to court. He had a good feeling that Lance was interested in him – his pleased scent and the way he smiled around Shiro were very obvious tells. They’d gotten closer in recent months, spent more time alone together as opposed to being with their shared group of friends. 

As with most things in life, he was sure the perfect opportunity would eventually present itself. He thought about it often, about what he’d say, how he’d like to ask Lance, how Lance would react… 

And as with most things in life, it didn’t happen at all how he thought it would.

They were walking down the street together when some alpha bumped into Lance. He reeked of alcohol, and snarled at Lance as if it were Lance’s fault. Shiro was sure that if he hadn’t been there, the alpha would have taken his attack on Lance to a physical level.

Fortunately, he was there. He knew he was big, even for an alpha, so he had that working in his favour. Not many wanted to get on the bad side of someone with his height. He was generally quit a gentle guy, but strangers didn’t need to know that. 

He couldn’t stand the idea of someone treating Lance so poorly. He’d growled like a possessive animal, putting himself between Lance and the other alpha. His sent had claimed everything his mind and heart both wanted: that Lance was his, and only his. He’d put his arm around Lance’s waist to hold him close and hadn’t really let go yet.

It was lucky the situation didn’t escalate. They carried on walking, and Shiro held Lance a little closer, reluctant to part with him. 

They were together, then. In more ways than one.


	26. Keith/Lance - Sleepless

Lance wasn’t sure why Keith was having trouble sleeping lately, but he was determined to help his boyfriend. After all, what kind of partner would he be if he didn’t try and help Keith when he really needed it? Even if he just insisted he was sick, or overtired, or something along those lines.

Generally, Keith wasn’t the type of person who had sleeping troubles. He didn’t often had trouble getting to sleep, and was, for the most part, a morning person. The moment his alarm went off he was awake, no lingering or complaining. He didn’t need to set the alarm more than once and rarely had coffee to perk himself up.

But in recent weeks, he’d struggled a little. Sometimes he would toss and turn for hours before actually falling asleep, which was very unlike him. He’d developed bruises under his eyes that would disappear just as quickly as they’d appeared, only to return soon again.

It was clearly a frustrating problem to Keith too, who didn’t like feeling so out of control of his body. He claimed he wasn’t stressed, and that he couldn’t remember if he was having dreams or not, but Lance wasn’t so sure. Problems with sleep didn’t just pop up for no reason, he himself knew that better than anyone. He liked his sleep, but could lose precious hours of it to stress. He knew what the signs looked like.

He supposed he was lucky that Keith was willing to try a bunch of Lance’s suggestions regarding his sleeping problem. He started by giving Keith herbal teas to drink at night, just simple brews like chamomile and lavender to calm his nerves and mind. Keith wasn’t much of a tea drinker, but he humoured Lance. They seemed to help a little bit, though they didn’t solve the problem indefinitely. Lance suggested things like white noise, or reading until his eyes felt tired, but Keith didn’t really like doing those things.

In the end, what worked was much actually simpler. It turned out that Keith fell asleep within minutes if Lance traced patterns on his skin. That was something they came across accidentally – they were in bed, and Lance was absentmindedly drawing lines down Keith’s arm, only to have his boyfriend snoring quietly in no time at all.

The solution was so simple he could have laughed. Of course Keith would appreciate a little affectionate. As much as he tried to keep his tough exterior up, he was quite gentle on the inside, and willing to put up with Lance’s over affectionate nature. He liked to cling to Lance in his sleep, and never turned Lance down when Lance wanted to hold hands. It made sense that a little soothing physical contact would ease his restless mind. 

And really, it wasn’t like Lance minded spending more time with him. He liked running his fingertips over Keith’s skin, liked watching his eyes droop shut. A content Keith made Lance in turn a very content boyfriend.


	27. Lance/Shiro - Heavy

Lance stretched his back as he wiped sweat from his forehead. It was warm outside, but he was sweating for an entirely different reason. Carrying boxes of his stuff up the front stairs of his new apartment complex was much more difficult than he’d imagined it would be. He’d planned on having help, but something had come up and he ended up doing all of it on his own. 

At least the movers had taken most of his furniture up. His bed, his cupboards, his bookshelves and his couches were already inside the apartment. He’d had to take up his bedside tables and coffee table himself, but he’d managed alright. It was taking up the rest of his things – his clothes, his kitchenware, his books, those sorts of things – that were proving to be a challenge. None of it was even that heavy, at least not heavy enough that he couldn’t lift it, but going up and down the stairs a dozen times was killing his legs.

He had no choice but to keep going. It wasn’t like his stuff was going to carry itself up to his apartment.

Sighing, he reached for another box from his car, carefully shut the door with his hip, and began the trip back up the stairs for what felt like the twentieth time. He had to open the door with his hip too, which meant he wasn’t exactly looking where he was going. It was kind of early in the morning, but past the time where most people had already left for work, so he wasn’t exactly expecting anyone to be on the other side.

“Woah,” a voice said, as the door was caught.

“Sorry!” Lance shifted his grip on the box in his arms as he spun around. The door was lifted off his back as a stranger peered out at him, looking just as surprised as Lance felt. “I didn’t mean to hit you.”

“No worries,” the guy said. He was much taller than Lance expected, with broad shoulders and a handsome face. Warm brown eyes stared down at Lance from beneath unfairly perfect eyelashes. “Need a hand?”

Normally, Lance wouldn’t have taken a stranger up on the offer. He didn’t want to inconvenience anyone, not when he could do the work himself. But he was feeling sweaty and tired, and felt an instant sense of relief at the question. “If you don’t mind,” he said, hesitant.

“Not at all.” The man reached for the box Lance was holding, taking it from him as if it weighed half as much as it did. “I take it you’re just moving in? Third floor?”

“I am, yeah.”

“We’re neighbours, then,” he said, laughing. “I live next door to you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He shuffled the box around – Lance couldn’t help but notice just how strong his new neighbour was, and felt himself flush – before offering his hand. “I’m Shiro.”

“Lance.” He shook Shiro’s hand quickly, not wanting to expose just how sweaty he was. It figured that he’d meet a handsome guy while he looked like a mess. “I guess you know where to take the box to?”

With Shiro helping, it only took ten minutes to get the rest of Lance’s things into his apartment. He couldn’t help but collapse against the couch when they were done, fanning himself with the neckline of his shirt. 

“I hope I didn’t keep you from anything,” Lance said, as Shiro leaned against a stack of boxes across from him.

“Not at all. I heard you moving around in here and thought I’d see if you need help. I remember how much work it took when I moved in.”

“If only there was an elevator,” Lance sighed, wistful. 

“If only,” Shiro agreed, laughing again. There was a charming tilt to his lips when he smiled, one that Lance’s eyes were constantly drawn back to. 

“You have to let me thank you somehow for helping,” Lance said. “I really don’t know if I would have made it up the stairs a few more times.”

“Oh, it’s alright. It was no problem, really.”

“I insist. Maybe I could…” Lance hesitated. “Make dinner, or something?”

Shiro smiled again. “Sounds great.”


	28. Keith/Lance - Disorientating

It wasn’t often that Lance was woken in the middle of the night because of Keith. His boyfriend was a sound sleeper, and didn’t often have nightmares or restless nights where he couldn’t stay still. For the most part, he was the one who woke up more, sometimes disturbed by loud noises outside or even woken by his own dreams.

So it stood to reason that waking up because Keith was tossing and turning was cause for concern.

Lance’s mind was blurry with sleep at first. He squinted at the clock on his nightstand and it was just past two in the morning, way too early to be reasonable. He wondered for a moment what had woken him, because he didn’t feel restless or uncomfortable, but then he heard a whimper from Keith.

He sat up and glanced over at his boyfriend. Keith had his back facing Lance, and was hunched into his shoulders. Tension ran down the length of his spine. He wasn’t usually the type of person to clutch at the covers in his sleep, but he was holding tight fistfuls of fabric in his hands. His hair was a tangled mess of black ink strewn across his pillow.

“Keith,” Lance whispered, as he reached out to put a hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder. He could feel Keith trembling, just a little, beneath his palm. “Keith, wake up babe.”

It took a moment of convincing, but eventually Keith startled awake. A strained gasp left him as his eyes snapped open, wild and confused. 

Lance leaned over him, putting his arm around Keith’s waist to keep him from jumping out of bed. “Hey, it was just a dream,” he said, voice quiet and calm. “You’re awake now.”

“Lance…?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

Keith let out a long, shuddering breath. After a moment, he rolled over to face Lance, and stuffed his nose under Lance’s chin. They were both quiet for a moment. Slowly, Keith’s breathing evened out, and he stopped trembling. Lance could feel Keith’s eyelashes against the skin of his neck.

“Want to talk about it?” Lance asked.

“I don’t even remember what it was about,” Keith murmured. “I was just…”

Lance ran his fingers through Keith’s hair, holding him close. It was a rare occurrence that he had to comfort Keith like that, but he was taking it very seriously, because he knew how dark and disorientating it could be to have an unsettling dream. “It’s okay now,” he promised.

Keith nodded. He stretched an arm over Lance’s waist, his fingers splayed wide against the small of Lance’s back. The heat of his skin was comforting. He was holding Lance close like he was afraid Lance might suddenly disappear. 

He took a moment to pull the covers back over them, then settled against the pillows. “Try and get some rest,” Lance whispered.

Nodding once more, Keith relaxed his grip, and closed his eyes. Lance waited until he was sure Keith was asleep before going back to sleep himself.


	29. Keith/Lance - Fit

Keith thought it was interesting to see the differences between his and Lance’s body shapes. When they’d first met several years ago, they’d been quite similar – both more on the lean side, almost the same height, though Lance had edged out above him by a few small inches. Now, there were more noticeable differences.

As much as Lance hated to admit it, Keith was a bit taller now. Not tall enough to see the top of Lance’s head while standing next to him, but close enough to it that he felt a little proud to finally be the taller one. His shoulders had grown broader, and his legs more muscled. He wasn’t quite lean anymore, but he wasn’t entirely muscled either, at least not compared to someone like his older brother, Shiro.

Lance was still quite lean, though he was less wiry and more toned now. His shoulders had broadened to some extent, and his waist had narrowed, tapering in quite attractively. His legs looked like they went on forever. He was a fast runner, but a faster swimmer, and it showed in his body. He had grown out of that gangly, long-limbed look that a lot of teenaged boys had, as if he’d somehow grown into the length of his limbs. 

One of the most obvious ways that Keith noticed their differences was in their clothes. He used to wear this cropped red jacket all the time, one that was always a little tight across his shoulders, but a little long at the sleeves. He couldn’t fit into it now. The shoulders were too tight, the sleeves a few inches too short of where they were meant to be. He kept the jacket because he loved it – loved seeing Lance in it, anyway. He’d been able to fit into it back when they first met, and could still fit into it now, even if the sleeves were a little short.

Lance had a jacket he’d been obsessed with wearing too. It was brown with a white hood, and had fitted over him quite naturally. He used to hide his hands in its deep pockets all the time, or would let the hood conceal his face if he didn’t want to be looked at. Back then, the jacket had been long on Keith. The sleeves had covered his knuckles and the hemline had fallen a little too far past his hips to look stylish. Now was a different story. He could wear the jacket and it fitted him almost perfectly, though he was sure it still looked better on Lance, as most things did.

The shapes of their bodies was something that he’d been thinking about a lot, lately. Mostly because he loved how Lance looked, and he found himself wanting to fit perfectly into the curves of Lance’s body – his fingers between Lance’s, his chest to Lance’s back, his chin in the hollow of Lance’s neck. 

There was nowhere that was a better fit than between them, he thought.


	30. Keith/Lance - Balcony

It was the strangest thing. For a week Keith was sure he’d been hearing things, that perhaps someone nearby had put a new wind chime on their balcony that he just couldn’t see, or a child had a new jingly toy. But it wasn’t either those things. That persistent, gentle bell ringing he’d been hearing every now and then for the last week was what he’d first assumed it to be – a cat.

He didn’t know whose cat it was, but it didn’t take a genius to figure it out. Not many people moved in or out of the apartment block without someone else hearing it, mostly because the walls were cheap and thin, and there was no elevator, which meant that any and all furniture had to be taken up the dingy stairwells. And about three weeks prior, give or take a few days, he’d heard the unmissable sound of someone trekking up and down them to get to the second floor – Keith’s floor. 

Someone new had moved in a few doors down. He wasn’t sure who, but he was sure that the cat was theirs. 

It was a nice cat, all things considered. Lanky and soft-looking, fur like silver-blue silk. Piercing eyes a shade of grey that was almost too blue to be called that. A long, twitching tail that almost always seemed to be curled into the shape of a question mark. A collar with two chiming bells.

He often found the cat on his balcony. All the balconies that shared a level in the apartment building were connected, separated only by a fence on either side, so it would’ve been easy for the cat to travel along them so long as it could fit through the bars. 

He never saw it on anyone else’s balcony, except for its own, a few balconies down the line. The cat’s balcony had a slowly growing collection of potted plants, a table and chair to sit at, and a bowl of water on the ground. It already looked more homely than Keith’s, which had one struggling cactus perched safely where the balcony railing met the wall, and an old doormat on the floor, because his balcony was shaded by a tree that tended to shed like an animal come winter.

For some reason, he thought that maybe the cat liked him. He was more of a dog person, so that was surprising. He’d found it curled up on his doormat several times, or lounging around on his balcony with its belly turned towards the sun. It didn’t flinch when he got closer to him, and even let him stroke behind its ears and under its chin. He knew that cats tended to roam, but this one rarely seemed to go further than his balcony.

It shouldn’t have been surprising, but eventually the cat’s owner came knocking on his door. Keith wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it definitely wasn’t a cute boy his age with the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. 

“Hey, I’m Lance,” he introduced, giving Keith a nervous but friendly smile. “I think my cat has taken a liking to your balcony?”

“Yeah,” Keith agreed, glancing over his shoulder, where his open balcony door revealed the cat sprawled out in the sun. “It’s over a lot.”

“Sorry about that, she’s just weird,” Lance said, flushing. “Blue! What are you doing, girl?”

The cat let out a little chirrup at the sound of her name, and came trotting through Keith’s apartment like she owned it. She rubbed against Keith’s legs before flopping down on his feet, looking like a dog waiting for belly rubs.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry,” Lance said, staring at his cat in horror. “I swear she’s not usually the type to do… that!”

“Break and enter?” Keith found himself teasing, before he could stop himself. 

Lance flashed a small smile. “Yeah, that.”

“It’s okay,” Keith said, “I don’t mind. She’s nice.”

“Nice until she’s hungry,” Lance snorted, as he bent down to scoop up his limp cat.

Keith matched his smile. “I’m Keith.” He stretched forwards to rub Blue’s chin. “Nice to finally know your name, Blue.”

Blue began to purr.

“Traitor,” Lance muttered.


	31. Keith/Lance - Outlands

Lance knew he shouldn’t have strayed so far from home, but it had been an accident. Sort of. King Alfor was always telling him to stay in the shadow of the castle, and to only go on the paths he’d marked as safe. He was to stay in the Altean lands at all times, and to never talk to strangers. Above all, Lance was to never, ever go near the outlands. 

That was where the outsiders were. The criminals. The traitors. The villains.

The Galra.

“You can’t turn your back on them,” Alfor would murmur, a shadowed look in his eyes. Lance was too young to understand the past the Alteans and the Galra shared, but all he was interested in was exploring. What twelve year old would rather have a history lesson over the chance to explore the world outside of the castle?

At first, Lance had been following a particularly beautiful bird. Its feathers were bright flashes of orange, catching rays of sunlight like coloured glass. He wanted to be its friend, but the bird would flitter from branch to branch if he got too close, always just out of his reach. It was almost like a game of tag, of cat and mouse. He’d been on the marked paths at first, but after chasing the bird through the trees, he found himself at an outcropping of rock just past where the path curved.

And past the rock was the outlands. 

A permanent shadow seemed to befall the barren stretch of rock that marked the outlands, the Galra territory. The sun was harsh there, and the rainclouds never seemed to have enough water to make anything grow beyond the stretch of Alfor’s lands.

He’d never admit it out loud, but he thought the outlands looked cool. Like a world completely different from the one he knew, the one he was already familiar with. He wondered what was out there, or rather, who. He’d never met a Galra. Wasn’t even sure what they looked like, because nobody talked about them. Whatever they’d done, it left a scar that Lance couldn’t see on the people around him, on his parents. Something heavy and silent. 

Even he knew not to talk about it.

But that didn’t stop him from thinking about it. About the outlands, and the Galra. His curiosity was a terrible, insistent thing. 

He sat himself on the edge of the rock, his eyes firmly fixed on the outlands in the distance. Altea was incredibly green, full of ponds and streams and lush gardens. Everything was built from smooth, white stone, inlaid with pristine glass and gold trim. The people were just as pretty and clean as the scenery. 

But the outlands was the opposite. He could see the place where Altea bridged into the outlands, where green trees withered into tangled black gnarls of wood and grass gave way to ashy fields of grey rock. It didn’t look like anything in the outlands was smooth. Their sky was a bruised purple, their water nothing but a thin, inky splotch on the distant horizon. The outlands seemed like a horrible place to live. Why couldn’t the Galra live with them? They weren’t all bad, were they?

“Prince Lance!”

Lance yelped as familiar hands caught him around the waist, pulling him away from the edge of the rock.

“I can’t believe you’ve wandered so far!” Coran exclaimed, as he set Lance safely back down on the grass. He looked frazzled, his clothes wrinkled, as he clutched an umbrella under his arm. “And getting so close to a cliff? Do you want to get hurt?”

“I’m not hurt,” Lance protested, batting away Coran’s hands as they began patting him down for injury. 

“Your father would be incredibly dissatisfied with me if you were hurt!” Coran insisted. He reached for the umbrella under his arm and popped it open, lifting it high above Lance’s head when he made a swipe for it. “With your complexion, you’d certainly burn, Prince Lance.”

“I don’t need a babysitter, Coran,” Lance fumed, fists clenched. 

“Your father sent me to look out for you,” Coran told him, speaking in that way adults did when they thought he was too young to understand what was truly going on. “He knew you wouldn’t stay on the path.”

Alright, so that was technically true, but it wasn’t like he’d gone far. Barely away from the path at all! “Father promised to let me go out on my own,” Lance said. He hated the whine in his voice, a tone he hadn’t yet been able to dislodge no matter how hard he tried to keep his words even. “He promised.”

Coran softened. As the royal advisor, he’d been by Lance’s side since birth, caring for him as deeply as his own birth parents did. “I’m aware, Prince Lance,” he said, “but the king is worried for you. You are, after all, his beloved son.”

Lance bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from scowling. 

“Come now,” Coran said, ushering him back towards the path. “Let’s head back to the castle.”

Lance felt something like embarrassment burn in his chest. He followed after Coran like the little duck he was expected to be. Coran carried on ahead, talking about something or other that Lance had no interest in. He made the right noises when expected, hums and nods of agreement, and waited for the perfect moment.

When Coran seemed appropriately distracted by his own story, Lance slipped into the trees around them, and ran off again.

He couldn’t help but snicker to himself as he ran back down the path, following the trodden ground through winding trees and lush patches of grass until he was back where he started, at the place where the path curved and he’d carried on straight ahead, chasing after a bird that was no longer on his mind.

Distracted by his sudden feeling of freedom, he didn’t notice the dirt beneath his foot crumbling until he’d tipped over the edge of the rock. A yelp escaped him as he tripped down a dirt embankment. Nothing was hurt except his pride when he stood, dusting himself off. He glanced back up the hill he’d fallen down and realised there was no way he could climb back up it, at least not until Coran realised he’d run off again and come to help him.

Until then… there was no harm in exploring, right?

He laughed to himself again as he took off down the path. There was less grass here, his boots more readily leaving lasting impressions in the dirt. He wandered down what looked like a path but could have just been an indent in the land, his mind a million miles away from his father’s rules.

He didn’t notice how far he’d gone as he clambered a top a fallen log that bridged the gap over a river, arms spread wide to keep himself balanced. The water below was murky and unnaturally still, but his eyes were on his feet and not its surface. He’d almost made it across the log when the toe of his boot snagged on a jagged piece of bark.

Another ungraceful yelp left him as he went toppling over. The ground rushed towards him, further down than he’d imaged it and not–

Not unoccupied.

There was another cry, one not his own, as he crashed into a warm body. Dust plumed up around him, thick and ashy in his mouth. He spluttered, pushing himself up onto his hands as he squinted as the person in front of him.

He’d never seen a Galra before, but something inside him told him that it was a Galra he was looking at.

The boy was probably around his age. His hair was dark, darker than the night sky that stretched above Altea on cold nights. Unruly strands fell around his face like they’d never been brushed back before. His eyes were an unusual shade of purple, light and glinting like something sharp, a colour Lance had never seen on an Altean. 

There was something about his expression, something that seemed so at war with his youthful features, that Lance couldn’t help but shiver at the sight of it.

The Galra boy recovered much faster than Lance, clambering to his feet with a ferocious grace that Lance had only seen on soldiers before. Lance struggled to get up, skidding back several feet when the boy began to circle him. It was almost like a dance. Lance could picture the boy with a dagger in his hand, what with the way he was standing.

“What are you doing?” the boy finally snapped, as he firmly planted his feet.

“My father says to never turn your back on an outsider,” Lance said.

“Let me guess, you do everything daddy says?” the boy taunted, fingers clenching around air, like he was aching to hold that dagger Lance had imagined. 

“No!” Lance protested. He shook his head. “What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” the boy countered. “These are the outlands.”

Lance blinked several times, worry furrowing his brow. Had he really wandered that far? He knew he should be scared, and he was, but that insatiable curiously was prickling at him again. “Really?”

“Yeah.” The boy swept out a hand. “These are my lands. I don’t need anybody.”

Lance was impressed, even though he tried to hide it. He’d never heard a kid his age talk so confidently, or act so much like an adult. “Cool,” Lance said, unable to stop the grin stretching at his lips.

The boy grinned back at him, all smug and assertive. He spun on his heel and edged down towards the water’s edge, skipping across stones poking through the water’s surface as easily as if they were solid ground. Lance followed, wobbly but persistent.

“I can take care of myself,” the boy declared.

Lance opened his mouth to respond when something leapt out of the water.

They both let out a scream as the monster snapped its jaws at them. Rows of teeth flashed, sitting in front of beaded eyes and scales the colour of mud. Lance scrambled forwards, following after the boy as he dashed across the rocks, leaping from one to the other in a frantic dash of flailing limbs and splashed water.

“What is that?” Lance cried, as another surged out of the water beside him, so close he could feel wind rush by as it snapped its teeth shut. Lance had never seen anything like it in Altea.

“Run!” the boy shouted.

A tree – or what was left of one – stood sticking out of the middle of the river, surrounded by enough rocks for the both of them to stand on. The boy made it there first and grabbed at Lance when he was close enough, pulling him to safety. They were both panting, but as a moment eased past, their worried faces turned to smiles of disbelief. 

“That was a close one,” the boy said.

“Yeah,” Lance agreed, breathless. 

The boy’s face suddenly paled. Lance followed his gaze and watched the water ripple around them. Scaly backs appeared through the surface, too many to count. 

Lance let out a scream as one lunged for his ankles. He grabbed at the tree, finding weak footholds in its scraggly bark, just enough to heave himself a few inches higher. A scaly tail lashed at the trunk and it shook so hard he was sure it was going to break, sending him plunging into the water below. 

The boy darted away. He hopped from rock to rock faster than Lance could ever hope to, avoiding snapping teeth by thin margins. 

“What about me?” Lance cried.

“I’ll distract them,” the boy shouted, “just run!”

But Lance couldn’t move. He clung to the withered branches supporting him, tucking his feet as high as they could go.

The boy reached for a branch on a different tree, his fingers curling around the bark as he tried to lift himself. There was a sickening crack a moment before the branch gave way, sending him plummeting into the water with a crash. The beasts all turned towards him, forgetting Lance entirely. Lance gasped, fear trickling down his spine as they swarmed towards where the boy was spluttering in the water.

“Watch out!” Lance threw himself down from the tree, stumbling across slick rocks as he bounded for the boy. He put everything he had into leaping across the gap in the water, slinging an arm around the trunk of the tree the boy had reached for. He reached down and the boy grabbed his hand, using him as leverage to scramble out of the water before any teeth could snag into him.

“Go!” he yelled.

Lance didn’t have to be told twice. They’d crossed so many stones they were almost to the other side of the river, the one closer to Altea. Lance made a run for it, the boy just ahead of him. The moment their feet touched the bank they were scrambling up its side, sending dirt and dust tumbling down into the water in their wake.

On land, and safely away from the water, Lance tried to catch his breath. “I’ve never been so scared,” he gasped, as he pressed his back into the grass beneath him. He’d never been so glad to see green.

“Me either,” the boy admitted, though he didn’t look nearly as dishevelled as Lance.

Lance just grinned at him, elated and tired and excited and impressed all rolled into one boy-shaped ball. “We make such a good team!” he said. “You were so brave.”

The boy seemed flattered, but like he didn’t know what to do with the compliment. He sat down beside Lance. He wasn’t breathless at all. “You were brave too,” he said. “My name is Keith.”

“I’m Lance!” He pushed himself upright and found himself almost nose-to-nose with Keith. “I haven’t had fun like that ever.”

A smile twitched at the corner of Keith’s lips. 

“Lance!”

Lance flinched at that voice, shrinking into his shoulders. 

The king appeared above him, casting him in his long shadow. His sword was drawn, not pointed at Lance, but at Keith, as if Keith were a threat.

“Father,” Lance began, but he was quickly hushed as another figure emerged, one from the outlands. A man with a long white braid appeared with his own blade, a long dagger, that he hooked beneath Alfor’s, pushing the tip away from Keith.

“Kolivan,” Alfor said.

“Alfor,” the other man rumbled.

Lance held his breath, eyes wide. Keith matched his expression. They stared at one another, still pressed in the grass like a pair of frightened cubs.

“The Galra aren’t welcome in Altea,” Alfor told Kolivan, his voice unwavering. It was the voice of a King and it made Lance feel incredibly small.

“The boy wasn’t to know,” Kolivan countered. He had a strength to his voice too, a low deepness that was less like Alfor’s burning strength and more like the oppressive taste of smoke.

“The boy is yours?”

“Yes.”

“Then take him, and be thankful that I’m not the type to punish him for your transgressions,” Alfor said, flicking his blade in Keith’s direction. “I banished the Galra from Altea for good. This is your only warning, Kolivan.”

Something akin to anger flickered through Kolivan’s steely eyes. He glanced down at Lance, meeting Lance’s terrified eyes and holding them captive. Lance tried to suppress a whimper. He felt like Kolivan was reading his mind, searching for weaknesses and finding every single one. Lance had never felt like such a kid.

Alfor pressed forwards with his blade, making it scrape against the steel of Kolivan’s dagger, pressing closer and closer to Keith’s throat with every passing second. “Leave,” Alfor snarled.

Kolivan finally looked away from Lance. He bent to wrap his fingers around Keith’s arm, hauling him upright despite Keith’s pained little noise.

Alfor did the same. He didn’t sheath his blade, and didn’t grab Lance by the arm, but he curved his fingers over Lance’s shoulder and urged him to stand. He didn’t let go.

“Bye,” Lance whispered, as he was turned away from Keith.

“Bye,” Keith whispered back. 

Alfor’s grip on Lance’s shoulder was unrelenting. Lance wisely kept quiet as he was marched back towards the paths, back towards Altea. Coran was waiting nearby, wringing his hands nervously. Lance couldn’t meet his eyes.

He knew he’d done something really wrong. That he shouldn’t have gone to the outlands.

But he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. Not when he’d met Keith there. There was something about him… Lance knew he wouldn’t be forgetting about Keith anytime soon, even though he should. 

He didn’t want to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always wanted to write a Lion King klance au but I've never been sure if I'd be able to finish it aha. Still, Keith would make a perfect Kovu, right?


	32. Keith/Lance - Nerves

Lance had Keith sit down on a low, cushioned stool in front of him. It was partially so he could reach Keith’s hair easier, because somewhere along the lines Keith had grown a few inches taller than him, and partially to keep Keith from pacing with nerves. 

He supposed he could understand Keith’s nervousness. The event they were at was quite important, after all. They both wanted everything to be perfect.

“How is it looking?” Keith asked. Lance could hear in his voice that he was doing his best to hide his nerves and it made him smile a little. Under his tough exterior, Keith was quite gentle on the inside, and more aware of others’ feelings than one might imagine.

“You look great,” Lance said. He pulled the brush through Keith’s hair one last time before using his fingers to smooth down the styled strands. It wasn’t anything too fancy, but Keith’s hair was pulled away from his face today, and his wayward hairs had been tamed by Lance’s careful brushing. He looked as handsome as ever, Lance thought. 

“Are you all done?”

“For the most part, yeah.” Lance left the brush on the vanity and went to fetch their ties. The fabric was a deep purple in colour, something quiet but elegant. Perfect for Shiro’s wedding. 

Lance stood behind Keith so he could see in the vanity’s mirror as he tied his tie. Since he was better at tying them, he had Keith turn around to face him so he could do his, as well. He’d always thought that there was something oddly romantic about tying his boyfriend’s tie. It probably had something to do with the fact that they were pressed so close together.

“Are you nervous?” Keith asked him next.

“A little,” Lance admitted. They were both Shiro’s groomsmen, but Keith was the best man, so it was understandable that he was more nervous than Lance was. “But it’ll be just like at the rehearsal dinner. Nothing to worry about.”

Keith flashed him a small smile. “Imagine how nervous Shiro must be.”

“Ready to pass out, probably,” Lance grinned. He finished with Keith’s tie, then fetched their suit jackets. “Which means we should probably get back to making sure he makes it down the aisle.” 

Keith nodded in agreement. He took his jacket from Lance and slipped his arms through it, tugging the edges before doing the buttons up. He looked ridiculously handsome, and Lance was immediately envious of his shoulder-to-waist ratio. A suit was a good look for him.

“Let’s go, then,” Keith said, holding out his hand. After putting his own jacket on, Lance took it. They made quite the pair. It made him wonder, briefly, what they’d look like at their own wedding, which was a thought that made him giddy and flustered. He and Keith had talked about it once, to see if they wanted the same things for their future. 

They did.

It made Lance excited for what was to come.


	33. Lance/Shiro - Lemonade

The McClain’s household was a flurry of activity. It was somebody’s birthday – Shiro wasn’t sure how they were related to Lance, perhaps a cousin’s child or something along those lines – and their party was being held in the backyard. 

Parties with Lance’s family were always big occasions, no matter who they were for, mostly because his family was large. Everyone would gather to eat and hang out and it was a perfect way to spend an evening. Even before Shiro had started dating Lance, when they were just friends, he’d still been invited over. To the McClains, family didn’t end with blood. And to someone like Shiro, who’s family was small and quite distant, it was a very new and welcome experience.

He was never quite sure what to do with himself when he was at one of the gatherings. That evening he’d gone over early to help out with setting up the yard, but he didn’t think they needed the extra pair of hands. Lance was still glad to have him over, even if Shiro was completely lost without him. For someone who was normally quite organised and on top of things, being this useless was definitely unusual for him.

“Here,” Lance said, as he floated past once more and finally took notice of Shiro’s inability to do anything other than watch him. “Sit, have something to drink. Ma made her homemade lemonade again.”

Shiro took a seat at the kitchen dining table as directed, and watched as Lance ducked into the fridge. “I don’t think I’ve been much help,” he said.

Lance laughed a little as he brought two glasses over. “Yeah, but that doesn’t matter. I like having you here.”

Shiro smiled, his cheeks warm. Sometimes Lance came out with tiny things like that, like they were just natural thoughts of his, and they meant the world to Shiro. He’d never imagined that this was where he’d be five years ago. When he’d realised he’d come to think of Lance as more than just a friend, he’d never thought that anything would come from it. After all, he hardly seemed to be Lance’s type, and they’d been friends for years. But he’d underestimated Lance’s feelings for him – feelings that had been more than just friendly for far longer than Shiro’s had.

Truthfully, he wouldn’t have changed how they got together. He liked that they’d been hesitant around one another at first, completely oblivious to the other’s feelings. And he liked how he’d been gradually introduced to Lance’s family as his boyfriend, not just his friend. It felt natural. 

“I don’t think there’s much more that I need to do,” Lance said. “You want to chill in my room for a bit?”

“If you can be spared,” Shiro teased, smiling again at Lance’s eye roll. “I’m completely lost without you, you know.”

Lance flashed him a warm look. “Well, I’ll always be around to point you in the right direction.”

That was just what Shiro wanted to hear.


	34. Keith/Lance/Shiro - Daybed

A noise made Keith lift his head.

Lance was curled up on the sunbed he insisted they buy, nestled amongst all his favourite blankets and pillows. Sunlight streamed in through white curtains, more light than heat, so Lance was wearing a soft sweater, too. It was big on him, but did little to hide the growing swell of his belly.

The noise had come from Lance. He was mumbling something in his sleep, brows furrowing. Keith waited to see if his mumbling would become worse, but after a moment his mate settled, and his little snores started up again. After Lance had fallen pregnant, he’d found it difficult to stay asleep. Something random would always wake him, and sometimes he didn’t even know what that was. It helped when his mates caught him fidgeting and soothed him back to sleep before he could wake, so Keith and Shiro were always watching him when he rested. 

That morning, Shiro had been unexpectedly called away, so it was just Keith and Lance. As a mated triad, they were allowed some leniencies regarding work that meant at least one of Lance’s alphas was allowed time off to be with him. Keith and Shiro rotated that time so at least one of them was still working. Now that Lance was far enough along that he himself couldn’t work, it meant their household was down his income, so at least one of them had to work normal shifts. Money wasn’t a problem, but they knew having a child was expensive, so even if they didn’t have to work for the duration of Lance’s pregnancy, they were still inclined to.

Keith supposed they were lucky that he and Shiro shared an employer, and that said employer was their friend. Allura all but threatened them to take time off so they could be with Lance. She knew how fussy and needy he could be, even more so now that he was being slammed with pregnancy hormones. 

He returned his gaze back to the book in his hands. Keith never used to read much, but while Lance was resting, he didn’t want to do anything loud or disruptive. Reading was one of the quietest hobbies he could think of that still allowed him to hover around Lance. Shiro had a decent collection of books that Keith was slowly working his way through.

Sometime later, Keith felt his phone vibrate. He checked it and found a message from Shiro, one asking about their omega’s wellbeing. 

Keith set aside his book and moved into the kitchen so he could call his alpha.

“Hey,” Shiro said, answering almost as soon as the number began to ring. “Sorry for running off this morning, Allura really needed the help.”

“It’s alright,” Keith whispered. “Was everything sorted?”

“Yeah. I should be able to come home in a couple hours.” He sighed. “How is he?”

“Sleeping,” Keith told him. “He’s on his daybed.”

“God, he loves that thing.”

A smile twitched at Keith’s mouth. He and Shiro always liked watching Lance lounge around on the daybed. His scent was always warm and honey-thick with content when he was relaxing in the sun. Neither Keith nor Shiro could regret purchasing it when their beloved omega loved it so much. 

“Did he have something to eat after I left?” Shiro asked.

“Yeah, just toast,” Keith said. Lance still sometimes had problems keeping food down in the morning, even though he was well past his morning sickness phase of pregnancy. “He went to take a nap almost immediately after and hasn’t woken up yet.”

“Good, I’m glad.”

Keith leaned a hip against the countertop. He and Shiro spent a small while just chatting – talking about Lance, about work, about Keith’s progress with the book he was reading. He knew he was probably keeping Shiro from work, but he didn’t want to end the call. 

Eventually something distracted him.

“Keith? I lost you there.”

“Sorry,” Keith murmured. “I think Lance is dreaming again.”

“Is he alright?”

“Let me check.”

Lance was twisting around on the daybed again, frowning into his pillow. Keith hurried to his side, taking a careful seat on the edge of the bed in order to run his fingers through Lance’s hair. His scent seemed to ease the omega a little, but his mumbled little noises didn’t stop.

“Want to talk to him?” Keith whispered into the phone.

“Please.”

Keith lowered his phone against Lance’s ear. He couldn’t hear what Shiro was saying, but he could just make out the low, soothing tone of his voice, and it made him smile. After a moment, Lance’s expression eased, and he slipped back into a deeper sleep. Keith reclaimed his phone.

“He’s sleeping perfectly again,” Keith said.

Shiro laughed quietly. “Is it weird that I miss him? It’s only been a few hours, and yet I want to go home more than anything.”

“I feel like that when I leave,” Keith admitted, as he continued to brush Lance’s hair. He wasn’t sure if it was instincts or maybe Lance’s changing pheromones, but being away from him was becoming harder and harder. “But it’s easier knowing you’re there to make sure he has everything he needs.”

Shiro laughed again. “I miss you too,” he said, sighing again. 

Keith smiled into the phone. He could hear the longing in Shiro’s voice and it made him warm inside. A common misconception about alpha-alpha-omega triads was that the alphas would always love the omega more than they loved each other, but that wasn’t true for them, and for most other triads out there. Keith loved Shiro just as much as he loved Lance, and he knew it was the same for his alpha. Their relationship was equal.

“I should probably get back to work,” Shiro said. “But if Lance still has trouble sleeping, ring me, okay? Allura doesn’t mind.”

“Alright. See you soon.”

“Bye, Keith.”

He set his phone aside, and returned his attention to his mate, who continued to sleep soundly.


	35. Lance/Shiro - Batter

Lance wasn’t used to seeing Shiro in the kitchen. Between the two of them, he was the one who did most if not all of the cooking. He’d always cooked, ever since he was small enough to see the countertops. 

It was something his mother and father taught him, as they did with all his siblings. He knew how to cook all the meals they ate for dinner, as well as bakery items for dessert (though he couldn’t bake as well as Hunk, who could make just about anything sugary with total ease). Lance liked cooking, all things considered. Since it was something he could do almost automatically, he didn’t find it strenuous. And besides, he’d rather cook than clean the dishes. Much less messy.

So it was definitely unusual to see Shiro fluttering around the kitchen. It wasn’t like he never cooked – he just wasn’t good at it. His culinary skills were generally limited to things like poached eggs or maybe spaghetti, if the pasta was pre-packaged and the sauce came from a jar. He generally only cooked if Lance didn’t want to, or if he had no other choice.

How he’d survived before they moved in together was a complete mystery.

“What are you doing?” Lance asked, curious, as he surveyed the damage done to their kitchen. It looked like Shiro had used every cake pan they owned, along with all the mixing bowls and measuring cups. 

Shiro jumped at the sound of Lance’s voice, as if he hadn’t heard him wander down the stairs. He didn’t quite manage to hide his embarrassed expression. “I’m making a cake,” he mumbled. “Well, trying to.”

Lance raised his eyebrows and tried not to laugh. Shiro was going red in the cheeks and it was the cutest thing he’d ever seen. “Any special occasion I should know about?”

“No,” Shiro started, shrugging a shoulder as he set down the bowl he was holding. “I just… wanted to eat cake. Not a store-bought one or anything, a proper homemade one, like my mother used to make.” He paused, then added, “And I wanted to make one for you, too. In case you felt like eating cake with me.”

Lance felt his heart melt. Shiro was always doing cute things for him as if they were as natural as breathing. He always refilled Lance’s glass at dinner if he noticed it emptying, and would shut their bedroom curtains in the morning when he woke up early if he thought the sunlight might disturb Lance. Him wanting to make a cake for them to share was perhaps the cutest thing Lance had ever heard.

“How’s it going?” he asked, as he sidled up to Shiro’s side, cheeks pleasantly warm. He peered into the bowl of batter Shiro had been stirring. 

“Not… great,” Shiro admitted, voice utterly begrudging. He sounded disappointed in himself. “I can’t cook.”

“Let’s make it together,” Lance suggested. He hated seeing Shiro looking so down, and would have done anything to put a smile back on his face. “I think we need to add more flour to the batter, it might be too liquid to rise properly.”

Shiro handed over the bowl. 

Lance dipped a finger in to taste the batter. It was sweet and full of vanilla, just how he liked it. He grinned. “Taste’s wonderful, though.”

“Really?” Shiro seemed surprise.

“Yep, delicious,” Lance promised. It definitely wasn’t as bad as Shiro might’ve imagined it was.

Shiro flashed him a proud little smile, and bent to kiss Lance’s forehead.

“Now come on,” Lance teased, “we have a cake to make.”


	36. Keith/Lance - Bad

It started with a broken glass.

Keith heard Lance swear before the shatter spilled through their small apartment. He was up in an instant, awake despite the fact that moments before he’d been trying to shake off the last clawing grips of sleep. 

“Dammit,” Lance was muttering, as he bent to pick up the largest shards of glass scattered around his feet.

“You alright?”

“Fine.”

Keith forced back a wince. It wasn’t often that Lance had bad days, but even though he was ridiculously energetic and upbeat, even he was susceptible to them. Over the years they’d been together, Keith had gotten really good at noticing the signs of an impending bad day. He was never really quite sure what started them for Lance, but it could’ve been anything, really. There didn’t have to be a reason for him to have a bad day – at least, that was something Lance reassured him of when he felt irritated and frustrated at himself for no apparent reason.

One small bad thing always led to more, small bad things. The broken glass was just the start of it that day. It was a Saturday, which meant they were together all day. Saturday was usually cleaning day for them, but Lance wasn’t powering through his half of the chores like he usually did. He had to clean up the glass first, and then seemed too distracted to fold their clothes properly. Keith didn’t say anything, and took up some of Lance’s jobs when he could. 

He had hoped that maybe Lance would feel better by the time the afternoon rolled around, but it didn’t seem like that had happened. At some point Lance had thrown himself down on the couch, facing the back of it, and he hadn’t gotten up since. 

Keith didn’t like seeing Lance so upset, especially not when he didn’t know what had caused it. But all the times Lance had comforted him and made him feel better had taught him an important thing or two about bad days.

He could sense that Lance didn’t want to talk – if he did, he would have. So instead of asking him what was wrong, Keith made them both a cup of tea, and brought the steaming mugs into the lounge room where Lance was still stubbornly curled up on the couch. The lines of his back and shoulders were stiff and uncomfortable, full of tension and frustration. Keith took a seat on the edge of the couch and put a hand on Lance’s shoulder.

When Lance didn’t shake him off or push him away, he laid down behind him, pressed up against Lance’s back to keep from falling off the edge. He slipped his arm over Lance’s waist and made himself as comfortable as he could. It took a moment, but eventually Lance relaxed against him, tension draining away. He didn’t say anything then, and neither did Keith. He didn’t need to.

Sometimes, just knowing the other was there was more than enough.


	37. Kinkade/Lance - Fangs

Ryan looked around the wide banquet hall with a feeling of distaste. He didn’t like large gatherings at all, mostly because they required him to be social and talkative, two things of which he certainly wasn’t. The sheer amount of bodies filling the hall felt dangerously like a volcano on the brink of an eruption; a pressure, deep and pervading, corrosive and threatening. 

He was glad vampires didn’t produce much body heat. It would have been insufferable if the hall was humid and sticky with warmth.

“Don’t make that face,” James said from beside him, looking beyond amused. When Ryan glanced at him from the corner of his eyes, he just flashed a toothy grin, and descended down the stairs in front of them. “Come on,” he called over his shoulder, “it’s not like this is a battle, or anything.”

Truth be told, Ryan would have preferred a fight over an event like this. It was rare for vampires to gather in such large numbers, especially outside of their own covens and alliances. If he hadn’t been forced to attend by his loyalty to his own coven, then Ryan certainly wouldn’t have come. Large numbers like this were just begging to be hunted, no matter how many of their people were on guard duty.

Mortals could be quite persistent when it came to hunting their monsters.

Reluctantly, he followed James down the stairs. The cloying scent of perfumes and unfamiliar vampires made his head ache. He was unusually perceptive when it came to scents, which only added to his discomfort. He could tell who’d recently fed, and more importantly, who hadn’t. A hungry vampire was not often a happy vampire, and he hated fighting vampires more than he hated socialising.

They could be rather nasty. He sort of understood why humans hated them and their sharp fangs.

James had already made his way towards familiar faces, so Ryan followed, his hands in the pockets of his dress pants. Formal events required formal clothes, and oddly enough, he liked them. Tuxes and blazers and slinky, slim dresses made for clean, neat lines. If he’d brought his camera, he’d certainly be taking pictures.

For the most part, Ryan didn’t do any of the talking. Although James could be aggressive and stubborn at times, he was generally a likeable guy. A lot of the older coven leaders liked his no-nonsense attitude when it came to business. They liked the way he ran his coven too, which was something partially in thanks to Ryan. 

It was a deliberate choice for James to take Ryan along to meetings with other vampires – not only was he as strong as he looked, but he was silent, too. Most other vampires mistook his silence for subservience, and although that wasn’t the case at all, he had no problems letting others believe that. It made his coven leader look stronger, and by association, his coven. That was always a good thing.

Ryan didn’t pay much attention as James socialised with their acquaintances. They flittered around from vampire to vampire tirelessly, though James hardly appeared bothered. Ryan took the chance to stare around the room, picking out faces he knew, cataloguing the ones he didn’t. There hadn’t been a meeting this large in a while. He supposed the hunter crisis was becoming a larger problem, then. 

It was as they made another pass around one side of the hall that a strange scent caught his attention. He paused, stepping away from James for a moment to try and catch it. All vampires smelt vaguely of iron, more so if they’d recently fed, but everyone had their own unique scent beneath that, just like a mortal. Vampires didn’t sweat, so that scent was generally more individualistic than a human’s. The one that had caught his attention was… attractive. It smelt like the sea, mixed with something sweet like honeysuckle or jasmine. 

He found himself quite taken with it.

“Ryan?”

He blinked several times, and turned his attention back to James, who was looking at him strangely.

“What have you smelt?” James asked.

“I’m unsure,” he murmured. “If you’ll excuse me.”

James nodded, and Ryan disappeared into the crowd. Many vampires used perfume and cologne to disguise the scent of iron on their skin – something originally done to confuse humans, but had caught on even around only vampires – but he could still pick out the attractive scent amongst the chemical sweeteners.

He was frustrated, however, when the scent disappeared near one of the wide balconies. He passed a thick curtain to escape into the outside air, where lanterns illuminated an empty balcony overlooking the manor’s expansive grounds. Leaning against the stone railing, he couldn’t help but rub at his nose. 

It was irritating to have his search be unsuccessful. He’d never met a vampire with a scent so alluring. 

After spending several minutes breathing in fresh air, he turned to head back inside, only to find someone else parting the curtain. A vampire a few inches shorter than him stepped out, wearing a deep blue suit and a tasteful silver diadem on his head.

“I’m just getting some air, Allura,” he said over his shoulder, exasperated. “I’ll only be a minute.”

His scent rocked Ryan back on his feet. There it was again – that alluring, ocean sweetness. He’d never imagined it would belong to someone so beautiful. Smooth, dark skin, brown hair, blue eyes – an unusual colour for a vampire. The man was stunning.

When he noticed Ryan on the balcony, he paused, the curtain falling shut behind him, taking the muffled noise of the hall with it. “Oh,” he said, eyes wide, “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“You’re not.” Ryan made his shoulders relax, tried to rearrange his features into something more approachable. 

The man gave him a stunning grin, showing off dainty fangs. “Perfect! It’s so stuffy in there, right?” He hooked a finger under his collar and tugged at it. “I can’t stand it. Don’t get me wrong, I love chatting, but it just gets to be too much sometimes.”

Ryan breathed in deeply as the man came to rest against the railing beside him. From this close, he recognised the symbol carved into the centre of his diadem, resting perfectly in the middle of his forehead – the shallow, wide V of the Voltron coven, one of the strongest covens there was. It made sense that a coven so renowned would have such an interesting vampire in their ranks.

“I’m Lance, by the way,” the vampire said, glancing up at him. “Lance McClain.”

“Kinkade.” His last name was what everyone called him.

“Oh, the Kinkade from Griffin’s coven? Ryan Kinkade?”

He nodded.

“Can I call you Ryan, then?”

He normally would have said no. “If you would like.”

“I would.” Lance flashed another cheeky grin. 

Ryan was surprised by the effect it had on him. He remained quiet but attentive as he listened to Lance talk – firstly about his coven, then the event, then anything that seemed to take his fancy. Lance didn’t seem to mind his silence, and didn’t take offence to it, as some vampires often did. Rather, it only seemed to encourage him to talk more.

As he talked, Ryan found himself glancing at Lance’s fangs every so often. He was fascinated by them. Vampires considered fangs to be an attractive quality if they were a nice size and shape for one’s mouth, and if they were kept hygienic and clean. Lance’s were small, but they fit perfectly amongst his other teeth, and didn’t poke out of his mouth when he spoke or make unsightly lumps beneath his lips. They were certainly just as attractive as the rest of him.

Ryan found himself wondering what they would feel like in his skin.

And that was very unlike him.

“You’re not very talkative, huh?” Lance asked, resting his chin in his hand as he watched Ryan’s face.

He only grunted in reply. 

“That’s okay, I don’t mind,” Lance grinned. “But you’d tell me if I were being annoying, right?”

“You’re not.”

“Great. Some people think I talk too much, you know. Finding a good listener is hard.”

Ryan thought he was a good listener. A great one, actually.

Lance turned his back to the view, resting his elbows on the railing as he tilted his head upwards, exposing the sensual stretch of his neck. “I can’t be the only one who thinks meetings this big are a bad idea, right? There are so many of us in there.”

Ryan hummed, partially distracted by the sight of such a pretty neck right in front of him. “There are a lot of covens here.”

Lance nodded. “Right? Poor Allura has to talk to everyone tonight. Everyone wants a piece of her.”

Ryan knew that eventually James would talk to Allura – Voltron’s coven leader – too. They hadn’t had much contact, but there was no bad blood between them. 

“You have a nice scent, you know,” Lance suddenly said. He jerked his head back towards the hall. “I could smell it before, but it’s hard to get anything concrete back in there.” 

“Yours is unusual,” Ryan told him, before he could think better of it.

“Good or bad?” Lance raised a brow.

“Good.”

An easy grin curled at Lance’s lips. “Aren’t you sweet. You have a good nose, then?”

He nodded.

“That’s amazing.”

Ryan felt himself flush a little. He knew it likely wouldn’t show up on his face – his skin was too dark – but a vampire would be able to tell when the blood rushed to his cheeks, and he was sure Lances grin was a sign of him knowing just that. “Thanks,” he murmured.

Lance leaned in closer, peering up at him. There was a strange sparkle in his eyes. “You have nice looking fangs,” he said, voice low and sweet. He raised one hand to grip Ryan’s chin, fingers light and gentle. “Show me properly?”

It was a very forward thing to ask for. Ryan studied Lance’s face for a moment – even if he was being forward, there was a shyness to his expression that was hopeful. So he parted his lips, mouth opening just enough to show off his fangs. He liked to think they suited him; large but proportionate to his size, sitting perfectly in his mouth, and well maintained. 

“Well, aren’t they just lovely,” Lance cooed, as a faint redness came to his cheeks. “You’re proving to be quite the interesting man, Ryan.”

“No less interesting than you, I’m sure.”

Lance’s cheeks reddened again, but it did nothing to diminish his handsome smile. “Won’t you come inside with me? I’m sure no one will bother us if we look like we’re talking together.” He offered his hand, gaze optimistic. 

Ryan didn’t hesitate to take it.


	38. Keith/Lance - Trip

Lance and Keith had never gone away as a couple together with their friends. They’d taken trips by themselves of course, and their friends and family knew about their relationship – they’d been together for a while now, and it wasn’t a secret they wanted to keep – but this was still the first times their friends would be around them for more than a few hours at a time.

He wondered, for the most part, how Keith would react. His boyfriend wasn’t big in PDA and Lance didn’t blame him for that. He was very careful about respecting Keith’s boundaries, especially when it came to their relationship. And it wasn’t like they weren’t physically affectionate with one another. At home, Keith was always in the mood to hold hands or cuddle on the couch. He wasn’t afraid to show Lance as much affection as he felt like, and didn’t mind receiving Lance’s attentions in return.

Lance would admit that he was a little surprised when Keith showed more affection than usual during the trip. They’d gone away with their friends for the weekend, having rented a cabin near some nice hiking trails and a scenic lookout they had yet to visit. It was a nice place, and a very relaxing way to spend a few days. 

Keith seemed very relaxed, all things considered. While Lance made dinner for them all, he’d come up behind him and plastered himself against Lance’s back, arms slung low around his waist. He watched Lance cook over his shoulder and didn’t flinch or draw away when Shiro or Hunk came into the kitchen, despite their surprise at seeing such an affectionate gesture from him. 

And while everyone was sitting on the cabin’s back patio, Keith had pulled Lance down into his lap, one hand going to grip his thigh as he let Lance settle against him. The chair seemed perfectly capable of managing their combined weight so Lance didn’t move. It wasn’t like he was going to say no to more open affection from his boyfriend, anyway. 

He liked that Keith was becoming more comfortable being open with their relationship like that. He’d never push Keith to do anything, but the fact that he wanted to do those things – and did them – on his own meant a lot. 

Even if it was just in the safety of their friend group for now, Lance was beyond pleased.


	39. Keith/Lance - Decade

One evening, visitors arrived at the castle.

They were the first to come in more than a decade, Lance thought. It was hard to keep track of time when he was by himself, so it was only a rough guess. But that didn’t matter anymore, not when he heard their voices filling the echoing halls. He rushed to meet them, eager for company.

An interior balcony overlooked the entrance hall, from which two curved staircases descended down to the lower floor. Lance all but threw himself at the railing, peering across it to see who had come. He found several people standing in the light of the open door – a knight in armour with white hair and a scar across his nose, a soldier in dark clothes with a hood and dagger, a man with bright orange hair and an orange moustache. Their faces were unfamiliar, but Lance was still delighted to see them.

“Visitors?” he called down the stairs, openly curious. “What has brought you to the castle?”

They startled at the sound of his voice, gazes swinging up towards him. He grinned, and put both his hands on the railing. In one smooth movement, he vaulted over the top of it, floating down to the floor far below with ease. Blue sparks glittered at his feet as they touched the ground – his magic flaring up, responding to physical activity. He still had little control over it.

“Who are you?” demanded the knight, his hand going to the pommel of his sword.

Lance offered an easy smile, and bent at the waist into a deep, sweeping bow. “Prince Lance, at your service.”

“The Prince?” It was the man with the orange hair who spoke this time, pushing past his companions to come closer to Lance. There was a shocked look of disbelief on his face. “That cannot be possible!”

Confused, Lance tilted his head to the side. “But I am standing right here.” He put another smile on his face as he straightened. “Nevertheless, won’t you come in? Oh, it’s been so long since I’ve had visitors!” 

He turned on his heel to lead them further into the castle, but stopped when he felt a prickle at the back of his neck. There was a sudden flair of blue light that surrounded him like a curved shield. When he turned back around, he found a dagger caught in the blue light, hanging in the air in front of his chest as if it were wedged into a wall.

A frown touched his face as he plucked the dagger from the air. “Well that’s not very nice,” he said, disheartened. 

“Keith!” the knight hissed, scolding.

Lance turned the dagger over in his hand, observing the mark on its hilt, the way its blade had been shaped. It was unlike anything he’d ever seen. Even the weight of the dagger, the feel of the metal beneath his fingers, felt foreign and unusual. He wondered where it had come from, but was reluctant to turn it back over to its owner. Instead he spun it in his hands and watched it disappear with a flash of blue.

“I suppose you’re not visitors, then,” he said, looking up. 

“I did not know you still lived!” the man with the orange hair exclaimed, pressing an honest hand over his heart. “We have had no access to the castle for years, Prince Lance. You must explain what happened… Where are the others?”

Lance blinked several times. “Others?”

“The King,” the man said, “the Queen, all the other Alteans living at the castle…”

Lance turned away again, scowling. “It’s just me now.” Truth be told, he didn’t enjoy thinking of it. He became all muddled up inside when those memories surfaced. They were only partial memories anyway, brief images or feelings, like an afterthought or a lingering taste in his mouth. “You haven’t told me your names, and yet you know mine,” he added.

“My name is Coran,” the man was quick to say, taking another step forwards. “You really do not remember me?”

“Should I?” Lance asked, hesitant.

“I suppose not… you were only a babe when I last saw you. Only just starting to walk.”

Lance frowned. “That cannot be,” he argued. “You are far too young to have known me so long ago.”

“What do you mean?” Coran matched his frown, confused.

Lance swept out his arms, gesturing to the walls around him. “I have been here for decades, alone,” he said. “So many that I have long since lost count.”

Coran paled. “But… only a few years have passed outside these castle walls, Prince Lance. Less than twenty!”

Unease curled in Lance’s stomach. He didn’t like it. 

“It must have something to do with the barrier surrounding the castle,” Coran said to his companions. “It’s possible, isn’t it Shiro?”

“It might be,” the knight said, “but you know more of magic than I do.”

Coran looked at Lance once more. “You must leave with us, Prince,” he pleaded. “Whatever happened here, the magic it’s left behind is deceptive. It has to be harming you.”

Lance’s frown deepened. “This is my home. I cannot leave it.”

“Why?” Coran pressed.

“I…” Lance paused. He wasn’t sure why he couldn’t leave, except that he was sure it was impossible. Not once in all the endless days he’d spent in the castle had he ever felt the urge to step beyond its confines. Something deep inside him was whispering that he couldn’t leave, that this was where he had to remain. 

He couldn’t even bring himself to entertain the thought of leaving. The thought wouldn’t stick in his mind. He couldn’t grasp at it, couldn’t bring it to fruition. It felt like smoke in his mind.

“I just can’t. But you are here now,” Lance said. “Come, I will show you to the dining hall. No more daggers, though.” He held out a hand and flicked his fingers, watching as the Shiro’s sword disappeared in the same way the soldier’s dagger had.

The dining hall was a short walk from the entrance, one he walked in relative silence. There were no cooks or bakers in the castle, even though there was a spacious kitchen adjoined to the dining hall, but he could magic any food he wanted onto the table. 

He held one of the two dining hall doors open for his guests as they cautiously edged inside. Coran went first, walking with a familiarity to his step that made Lance think that he really had been to the castle before, that perhaps he had even known Lance as a child, if that were at all possible. Shiro followed him in after casting an assessing look down at Lance. Whatever he was looking for, he didn’t seem to find, which satisfied him enough to stay silent as he trailed after Coran.

The soldier, however, lingered.

At Lance’s raised brow, the soldier scowled. “My blade,” he said.

“What about it?”

“Give it back.”

“So you can throw it at me again?”

“I won’t.”

He didn’t sound all that convincing to Lance. From this close up, Lance could see his face properly. He’d pushed down his hood, which helped. His face was smooth but for a scar on his right cheek. Thick, dark eyebrows sat above sharp indigo eyes. Lance had never seen eyes like that before. He thought they were quite attractive, even if they were currently glaring at him.

A grin curled at the corners of Lance’s lips. “Fine,” he said, as he held out a hand, palm facing upwards. The dagger reappeared. “Here, if you want it back so badly.”

The soldier reached for it, but before his fingers could touch the blade, Lance danced backwards, holding it out of reach.

“You don’t want it?” he asked, rearranging his expression into something utterly innocent.

The soldier scowled, and made another lunge for it, his hand swiping through the air. He was faster than Lance gave him credit for, but even so Lance was faster. He had magic on his side, after all.

“So close,” he teased. He glanced at the holster strapped to the soldier’s torso, and with a roll of his wrist, took it for himself with a spark of blue magic. It was a little awkward to holster the blade over his shoulder – he was unused to using such weapons – but he managed. “How about I leave it right here, and you can take it whenever you want.” He leaned closer, delighting in the way the soldier’s eyes went wide. “If you can, that is.”

He made a low growl, which had Lance laughing.

“Come along then…?”

“Keith,” the soldier supplied through gritted teeth.

“Keith,” Lance repeated. He was rather taken with the person in front of him, he found. Keith was quite unlike the other two waiting for them in the dining hall. Lance was sure he was going to have fun teasing Keith to his heart’s content. “Let’s eat, shall we?”


	40. Lance/Shiro - Mental

Shiro had long since come to terms with the lasting injuries he received from his accident. Some were more obvious than others, like his prosthetic arm and the prominent scar across his nose. He couldn’t hide those injuries, not when they were so physical and obvious. It had taken him a while to learn to accept those parts of himself, but he had.

The mental ones took a little longer. At first, he could hardly stand to be alone with his own thoughts. He’d always needed music or some other kind of background noise ongoing, something that would stop his thoughts from lingering on things he didn’t want to think about. A lot of the time his terrible thoughts had been prompted by a sudden clap of thunder, or a car backfiring in the street.

But he was better now. He’d learned how to manage his problems, and had worked on them so that they weren’t as detrimental to his life. He hardly ever had nightmares now, and loud noises didn’t prompt terrible flashbacks anymore. 

He could recognise it in others, now. Not always, but often. Trauma was often something best dealt with when not alone, so if he could help in any way, then he wanted to. 

He wasn’t exactly sure what was giving Lance nightmares, but he recognised them almost instantly. His boyfriend was usually quite energetic and cheerful, but sometimes be became suddenly withdrawn, like he was completely submerged in his own thoughts. Shiro knew better than to ask what was bothering Lance at those times – when Lance was ready to share, then he would. It was better not to push the issue, but to instead show Lance that he would be there for him.

And the best way he knew how to do that was to simply be there.

Lance liked physical affection. That was something Shiro had worked out very quickly at the beginning of their relationship. So when he was struggling, Shiro would reach for his hand and intertwine their fingers, or he would put an arm around Lance’s shoulders. At night, when Lance was having difficulties sleeping or had just woken up from a nightmare, Shiro would pull him close and sling an arm around his waist. He’d be able to feel Lance’s heart racing, and knew when it would ease. He’d always stay awake with Lance until Lance slept again, even if it was in total silence.

They were just little things, but he knew Lance appreciated them. His weak smiles and the way he’d hold onto Shiro tightly said more than words could. He’d share his trauma when he was ready, and Shiro would be there to listen and understand. For now, all Lance needed of him was comfort, and Shiro was more than ready to provide that. Lance would – and did – do the exact same for him, after all, which was something Shiro was very thankful for.

When it came down to it, they were always there for one another.


	41. Keith/Lance - Shivered

Snow was falling outside, more silent than Lance had ever seen it before. Thick blankets of white covered everything he could see, as far as the view from the window allowed. Only the black trunks of skeletal trees stood out against the paleness. They looked like scars on the mountainside.

From behind him, Lance heard gentle footsteps approaching. He leaned back as arms circled his waist and a chin dipped into his shoulder. “It looks very cold outside,” he remarked, adjusting his grip on the cup of steaming tea clutched between his fingers. “The snow is too thick to travel through now, I think.”

“Good,” Keith rumbled, his voice little more than a low growl. He didn’t seem to have any interest in the view beyond the wide window before them. Instead he turned his nose into the crook of Lance’s neck, his teeth coming out just enough to scrape across the sensitive skin he found there. Lance shivered at the touch, unable to help himself.

“Are you sure no one will be able to find us out here?” he whispered.

“I’m sure.” Keith took his mug form him and set it aside so he could properly take Lance into his arms. His scent soothed Lance, who all but melted into the embrace. Concern for their safety and privacy still made him tense, but it was easier to deal with when Keith was around. Knowing he’d have his mate with him to protect him was more than he could ask for.

Lance’s parents hadn’t agreed with his choice to mate with Keith. To be fair, Keith’s parents hadn’t agreed with Keith’s decision, either. Lance’s parents believed Keith was too unsophisticated, that he was just street riffraff, that he wasn’t socialised enough and didn’t have a good enough standing in society. And Keith’s parents thought Lance was too spoilt, that he only thought of himself, that all he would do to Keith was take and take without ever giving anything back.

But that didn’t matter to either one of them. That wasn’t the choice they decided to make for themselves.

Keith had placed a bonding mark on Lance’s neck earlier that afternoon. They’d escaped up into this cabin before the snowstorm hit so no one could follow their tracks or figure out where they had disappeared to. It was the only chance they’d gotten at getting away before anyone could forcefully separate them.

The minute they’d had the chance, Keith had bit Lance, too. Marks were irreversible and Lance knew he would never regret having Keith’s. There was no way his body would have been so receptive to it if he hadn’t been as in love with Keith as he was in the first place.

“Relax for now,” Keith murmured, running a hand up and down Lance’s back.

Lance hummed, turning his face into Keith’s shoulder. Soon the bite would heal and they’d be able to return home, inseparable. For now, they had the cabin and the snow all to themselves.


	42. Keith/Lance - Antics

Lance sensed Keith waking up before his mind fully surfaced. There was a dip in their mattress, a tell-tale pulling of sheets that roused Lance no matter how careful and gentle Keith was. He lifted his head, letting out a half-confused, half-curious noise as he blinked at Keith’s back.

“Where you going?” he mumbled, rubbing at an eye.

“Going for a run,” Keith said, voice sleepy but amused as he glanced at Lance over his shoulder. “Like I do every morning.”

“No,” Lance whined, reaching out an arm to drag Keith back to bed. “Stay with me.”

Keith laughed quietly. He untangled Lance’s arms from around him and slipped out of bed, standing to stretch his arms up high. “I won’t be gone for long,” he said, like he did every morning. “Try and get back to sleep.”

Lance mumbled something unintelligible, waving a hand. He was already mostly asleep again, but stubbornly kept his eyes open to watch Keith as he got ready. Only when he was sure Keith had taken off did he turn his face back into his pillow with a comfortable sigh. Sleep came easy again.

 

The wind outside was biting. Lance shivered as a cold draft snuck beneath his scarf. He insistently tugged his beanie down over his ears. He swore it wouldn’t have been such a dreadful day if it weren’t so windy. Petulant, he looked around for something to take his mind off the cold, and grinned when he found the perfect distraction.

“Keith,” he whined, as he draped himself over Keith’s broad shoulders. Like he expected, his boyfriend was exceedingly warm, like a walking space heater. He was only wearing his signature leather jacket, so Lance was free to shove his cold nose against the warm skin exposed by Keith’s collar.

“Jeez, Lance, you’re so cold,” Keith complained, briefly turning away from the conversation he was having with Shiro. “Get off.”

Lance only grinned again, humming with content. Keith made no move to push him away so he cuddled closer, uncaring about how awkward it made them stand. Keith was used to his antics by now, and besides, who was Lance to not take advantage of Keith’s natural body heat? 

It would be a crime to let it go to waste. 

 

After stuffing his towel in his bag, Lance made for the front door. Every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon he taught a bunch of kids how to swim at a nearby pool for a little extra money and some experience to put on his resume. That, and he actually enjoyed it.

As he passed the lounge room, he suddenly doubled back, having been struck by the sudden urge to find his boyfriend. Keith was sitting on the couch minding his own business. The television was on, but he wasn’t paying attention to it, and the volume was low. Instead his eyes were glued to the book sitting between his palms, so much so he hardly noticed Lance approach him.

“I’m heading out now,” Lance said, bending over the back of the couch. 

Keith hummed.

Lance rolled his eyes, but leaned forwards to kiss Keith’s cheek anyway. He made sure to make it extra wet just to bother Keith, who squirmed and rubbed at his cheek as Lance ducked away, laughing. 

“Have fun!” Keith called over his shoulder, as Lance disappeared back out of the lounge room.

“I will!” Lance called back. 

 

Lance was slouched across the dining table when Keith wandered over to him. He put a hand on Lance’s back, making Lance sigh. 

“Long day?” Keith asked.

“Long day,” Lance agreed. 

Keith leaned over Lance, pressing him harder into the table until he felt almost limp on Lance’s back. 

“And people say I’m needy,” Lance teased, blindly reaching back a hand to pat Keith’s ruffled hair.

“You are,” Keith muttered, breath hot against the back of Lance’s head. “But I like it.”

“Oh you do, do you now?”

“Very much.” 

Lance laughed quietly. He knew he was a needy person, especially when it came to physical affection. Keith wasn’t super into it, but he didn’t seem to mind when Lance was practically all over him. Rather, he seemed to like it. He didn’t let anyone but Lance act that way around him.

“But who wouldn’t like it when their boyfriend just wants their attention all the time?” Keith continued, oblivious to Lance’s inner musings. “Don’t stop being needy or I’ll feel unloved.”

Lance laughed again, smiling so hard he felt like tears might come to his eyes. “And we wouldn’t want that,” he said.

Keith snorted. He stood to let Lance breathe, and they carried on with their evening, Lance’s mood lifted. It the end, it didn’t matter how needy Lance felt. Keith was always more than willing to comfort him.


	43. Keith/Lance - Mountain

“I can’t believe you tripped over your own feet.”

“It was a root, Keith.”

“Uh huh.”

Lance huffed, his face going red from embarrassment. It actually had been a protruding root that tripped him over, and he knew that Keith knew that, so he didn’t know why Keith was being so mean about it. 

But it probably had something to do with the reason why the tips of Keith’s ears were stubbornly red, he thought.

Lance sighed to himself, his grip momentarily tightening on Keith’s shoulders. He’d struggled with walking after twisting his ankle – it throbbed with pain as if to remind him that it was utterly useless at the moment. Keith had had no choice but to carry Lance. He was strong enough, and as long as they stayed on the marked trail, then getting back down to civilisation should be easy.

Should be.

“You’re not going to drop me, right?” Lance muttered, casting a look at the ground. Keith had his arms looped under Lance’s thighs, which were squeezing at his hips despite Lance telling himself to relax. He knew Keith was strong, but he worried his weight would be too much. Lance had both of their bags on his back as well, though they were mostly empty now – they’d eaten their food at a nice lookout spot further up the mountain before Lance had twisted his ankle.

“I’m not going to drop you,” Keith said, sounding vaguely offended. To his point, he bumped Lance higher up on his back, tightening his grip around Lance’s thighs. Lance barely suppressed a yelp as he clutched at Keith’s shoulders, nervous. 

He didn’t want them to argue, so he kept quiet. Keith probably needed to concentrate on where he was walking, anyway. Lance had been able to limp a short way down the trail, but for the most part, Keith had been forced to carry him. He was probably tired.

“It’s not your fault,” Keith said, voice gruff. “Sorry for snapping.”

A small smile flittered across Lance’s face. He rested his cheek against the back of Keith’s head. “It’s okay,” he said.

Keith squeezed his legs a little.

The rest of the walk back down the mountain was in relative silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. They’d probably laugh about this tomorrow and consider hiking a partially failed date idea, though he doubted it’d deter them from going again, since eating lunch at the lookout had been wonderful. All things considered, Lance would still say their date was a success based solely on the fact that he always had fun with Keith, even if they bickered.

“We should go hiking again,” he declared, as his thoughts ran away from him.

Keith let out a quiet burst of laughter, one that made Lance grin. “Already so eager? We’re not even off the mountain yet.”

“But it was fun.”

“Even if the tree roots are out to get you?”

“Oi!”

Keith laughed again.

Lance did too. Keith always managed to make him feel better.


	44. Lance/Shiro - Dragon

Lance, like most of his family, was gifted with incredible healing powers. They stemmed from a strong affinity with water – powers of the sea had three main factions: divining, ice-making, and healing. The McClains had always had a strong affinity with the latter, and as such, when they came of age, spent a long time wandering around in search of those who needed their assistance.

He was currently doing just that. All of his family went on a journey at some point or another in their lives. It was partially due to the urge to expel the excess magic that built up in a person throughout puberty, and partially as a way to rapidly advance their abilities. Healing a variety of wounds on a variety of different people and species was the best way to gain experience, and staying in one place didn’t allow for that. 

He’d been away from home for about a year now, travelling from town to town, healing people as he went. It was a learning process, and a slow one at that, but he wouldn’t have changed any of it. This was the legacy he was born into, and he was prepared to enjoy it to its fullest, even if it was challenging.

Some people heard of him coming, and waited for his arrival. Others saw opportunity when it arose and came to him if they heard of his presence in their town. Very rarely, someone would send word to him, asking him to deal with a very specific kind of illness. He was hard to track down when he was always on the move, though he always tried his best to let his family know his whereabouts, but those with enough persistence always managed to find him.

And a woman named Allura turned out to be the most persistent person Lance had ever met.

She sent a message by mouse – yes, mouse – requesting his presence. A little digging into her family name – Altea – revealed a history of nature magic, and it appeared Allura had a strain of animal handling. Nature magic had three factions, just like water magic: animal handling, flora handling, and weather handling. Animal handling was quite rare, so Lance felt inclined to meet her.

The town she was staying in was small, located at the foot of a great mountain. Snow constantly tumbled down from the skies above, almost making Lance wish he had an ice-making ability so that the cold would not bother him as it did.

Allura was a woman with a stare as mighty as her magic. She paid for his dinner at the inn they met at, and offered him reprieve from the cold in her rooms. 

“There must be a reason why you’ve called upon me so,” Lance said, as he warmed himself by the fire burning bright in Allura’s fireplace.

“There is,” Allura agreed, her voice taking on the first tones of hesitance he’d heard. “But I worry that it may be even beyond your reach.”

“You’re aware of my family’s legacy,” Lance said. He wasn’t trying to brag, but there was a reason his family was known for their healing powers. It was in their blood, and their determination to succeed in their field was unlike any other.

“I am,” Allura conceded with a slight nod of her head. She hesitated before asking, “Have you ever seen a dragon?” 

“A dragon?”

She nodded.

“No. There are no dragons by the sea. I thought there were no dragons on this continent, truth be told.”

“A rumour,” Allura assured him. “One more for the protection of the dragons than the people.”

“Then you know of a dragon?”

“Yes.”

“And it lives nearby?”

“Yes.” Allura took a seat across from him, turning her hands towards the fire as he had. “Up in the mountains. Very few know of it. Only those I trust.”

Lance knew why she had kept the dragon so close to her heart. They were furiously hunted, and were supposedly on the verge of extinction. Far off countries claimed to have them by the plenty, but those were just rumours. Lance had never heard a dragon’s roar travel through the sea, as it was often claimed they could.

“Is it injured?”

“Yes,” Allura said once more. She glanced at him, her blue eyes perceptive. “You are not afraid?”

“A healer cannot be afraid of a sick patient,” Lance told her. “It is my duty to heal those who are in need, no matter who they are or what form they take.”

Allura gave him a gentle smile, one that betrayed her relief. “You do not know how glad I am to hear that. This dragon… he is unlike the others, in that he is not fully a beast.”

Lance’s eyebrows rose. “A shifter?”

Allura nodded once, short and curt. “He is very hurt, and cannot shift back in the state he is in. I fear that if he never heals, he will remain trapped as he is, and that will be very dangerous for him.” She pursed her lips. “Especially in this land.”

Lance couldn’t help but agree. Dragons were hunted for their parts, cut down and plucked apart like a common fowl. Dragon scales, teeth, claws, even horns and bone fragments could fetch a pretty price at illegal markets. 

“Have no other treatments worked on him?” Lance asked.

“None. We even tracked down another dragon, but not even its fire could rejuvenate him.”

Lance leaned back in his chair, thinking. He’d never treated a dragon before, nor a shifter. He’d treated magical creatures, but this was a new challenge. “I don’t suppose his injury is one that can be explained without me seeing it?”

Allura gave him a wane smile. “All I can say is that it’s grave, and permanent. He is suffering and it breaks my heart.”

“I suppose I’ll just have to see him in person.”

 

The dragon’s lair was high up on the mountain, further than Lance would have gone by his own intentions. Allura fitted him with winter clothing to ward off the cold, and guided him up to a cave’s entrance, carrying half of his materials to lessen his burden. She went in ahead of him to warn the dragon, but left him alone when it came time for him to see the dragon for himself.

It was dark, but not too dark to blind him. He found the dragon curled up in the furthest reaches of the cave, where the air was safe from the chill of the snow outside.

“Hello,” he said, cautious, as the dragon raised his head. He was enormous, even folded down as he was. His scales were a deep silver, like polished steel, though his extremities – the tips of the horns protruding from his forehead, the furthest reaches of his wings, and the end of his long tail – were tinted black. There was a prominent scar bridging across his snout and down towards one side of his fanged maw, a scar that had removed the fine scales and left a dark slash in their place. As far as Lance could see, it was a healed wound – so where was he injured?

It became clear a moment later, as the dragon slowly unravelled from his curled up position, attempting to stand.

One of his front legs was completely severed, leaving a heavily scarred stump behind. The injury that had removed the leg had travelled further up his side. A scar traced the path of the wound where it had torn through the dragon’s wing. Neither the stump nor the gash in the wing had healed correctly.

“Oh dear,” Lance said.

The dragon let out a low noise, and unable to hold himself up, crashed back to the ground. 

Lance edged closer, reaching into his bag as he did. He always carried water from his hometown spring on him, as his magic responded strongest to it. The vial was familiar in his hands, and the water inside responded to him like a warm friend.

After unstoppering the vial, he drew water into his palms, bending it to his will. Magic runes, normally undiscernible, began to glow on his skin, travelling up the inside of his wrists to disappear beneath his coat sleeves.

“Bend your head,” Lance instructed. 

The dragon bent his head, making a low crooning noise. Lance knew that he was confused as to why Lance didn’t target his injury site, but there was a method to his madness.

“Whenever I treat someone,” he began, as he pressed his palms to the dragon’s head, “especially someone who is gravely injured, I find that the most pressing thing on their mind is the pain. It may be sharp and constant – a wound unable to stop bleeding. Or it may be old and persistent, an ache that lingers so much it interferes with all other aspects of life.”

The water in his palms began to spread, multiplying in mass with the aid of his magic. It spread across the dragon’s sales, over the top of the dragon’s head, threading between his horns and around his eyes like a spray of fine mist.

“Pain is often separate from injury entirely,” he continued. “As if it were an entity of its own. Treating it often makes treating the injury itself more bearable – it’s why healers numb wounds, or work on unconscious patients. If I can ease your pain, then I can work on your injury without distraction.”

Slowly, the tension in the dragon’s eyes began to ease. He let out another low rumble and dropped his head to the floor, his eyes momentarily closing. Lance knew that his magic had reduced the level of pain sensitivity the dragon was experiencing. It was only a temporary relief, but a relief nonetheless.

“There. Better?”

The dragon rumbled once more.

Lance smiled to himself. “Perfect. Now let me have a look at your other wounds, alright?”

He could see why all other healing options had failed. The injuries were severe – not to mention on a dragon, a patient that normal healers would never come across, nor ever be trained to treat. The amputation was something he was confident he could heal with a few sessions. He could clean up the scarring, make sure there were no bone fragments or torn ligaments left hanging. Hopefully the dragon would become used to the missing weight and be able to recalibrate himself.

The wing was a larger problem. Once, when he was younger, Lance had healed a bat with a torn wing. The creature had been no bigger than his palm, the tear only a hair’s width wide, but it had taken him a week of working on it to get it in flying condition again. Even then, there had still been a faint scar. Wings were notoriously difficult to heal once broken, because they were never the same again, no matter the skill of the healer.

And a wing this large was certainly a problem. What was a dragon that couldn’t fly? A ridiculously easy target. It was likely this wing injury that was keeping the dragon grounded. A three-legged dragon could learn to walk once more, but a one-winged dragon could never fly again.

“I’m not going to lie, but this might be beyond my skill,” Lance said, as much as he loathed the words. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to try. I’m confident I can heal your leg, but your wing presents more of a challenge.”

The dragon only watched him, attentive and still.

“I’ll do what I can to treat your pain in the meantime,” Lance told him. “Hopefully we can get it down to a level where you can shift back into your human form.”

He made a low, agreeable noise.

Lance smiled. A willing patient was better than an unwilling one. “I’m Lance, by the way,” he said. “And you are…?”

 _Shiro,_ a voice murmured into his mind. _I owe you my eternal gratitude, Lance._


	45. Keith/Lance - Nocked

Lance nocked an arrow and pulled back on the string. Tension made the muscles in his arm stiff, but there were no tremors in his hands. His eyes followed the line of his arrow across the clearing, where a hooded figure was slumped against a tree, their face turned over their shoulder. Lance was downwind, and he could smell blood on the air, coppery and sour. 

It had been some time since someone had made their way into the oceanside woods. Every being with a basic grasp of geography knew these lands belonged to the water nymphs. Passage was only granted through the road leading into the citadel or at the harbour – the woods were off limits. Regular patrols guarded the border with strict regularity, and it just so happened that Lance was on duty when he’d sensed the intruder nearby.

The only reason he hadn’t let his arrow fly was because something was telling him to hold off. An injured opponent stood no chance against him, so he was confident in his hesitation.

Across the clearing, the figure sunk deeper against the tree, his breathing shallow. From this angle Lance couldn’t see where he was injured, but the way he hunched over his torso indicated that the wound was likely somewhere on his side. Lance didn’t recognise the tribal insignia on the man’s dagger, but when he released a burst of flames from his palm to clean it of blood, he knew the man must be a nymph from the firelands.

It was incredibly unusual to see a fire nymph this close to the ocean. They very rarely came to the water territories without a political incentive, and preferred to stay near burning deserts or volcanic mountain ranges.

Suddenly, the fire nymph’s head jerked up, his face swinging towards Lance’s position behind the line of trees between them. He raised his dagger, lurching to his feet, and in that instant Lance let his arrow fly. It shot through the air and embedded itself into the trunk beside the fire nymph, his cloak caught by the sharp arrowhead.

“Hold still,” Lance ordered, as he reached back for another arrow. “I never miss.”

The fire nymph swayed on his feet, but made no move to come any closer. He slumped back against the tree, clutching at his side. 

“Who are you?” Lance demanded.

“I…”

Lance crept closer, slowly lowering his arrow. It was clear the fire nymph could hardly keep himself upright, let alone attack Lance. He took the chance to peer at the nymph’s face – dark hair peeked out from beneath his hood, and there was an old scar on his right cheek, edging down towards his throat. When their eyes met, Lance jolted backwards as if he’d been struck by a bolt of lightning. 

Every nymph knew of the legends told about mates, where one soul was so compatible with another that they were destined to be together, guided by the hand of fate. In the past, great kings and queens that had been mates were notorious for long, peaceful, and prosperous times. It was said that any children born from true mates would be beautiful and honest, and more powerful with their magics. 

Many described the feeling of seeing their true mate for the first time as lightning.

A fierce protectiveness surged up in Lance, one he felt completely helpless to stop. He edged closer, suddenly feeling confident that the fire nymph wouldn’t hurt him. Rather, he was more concerned with the fact that the nymph might drop dead at any moment, which he certainly couldn’t allow to happen.

Muffled crackling in the trees behind him made him whirl around. He nocked and released an arrow and heard the wet sound of flesh parting around the arrowhead, followed shortly by a pained, whining grunt. Tracing the path the arrow had flown revealed a poacher on the other end – just as he’d expected. Disgust filled his belly as he nudged the poacher over with the toe of his shoe, searching for the tell-tale insignia on his cloak, one that would identify his faction.

Poachers were always after the magic races, nymphs included. No wonder the fire nymph would have rather faced the punishment for intruding over the poisons and tortures poachers liked to inflict on their prey.

Lance returned to the fire nymph’s side and, after curling his fingers around the nymph’s arm, helped him upright. “Are there more of them?” he demanded.

The nymph shook his head, gesturing to his dirtied blade. “I dealt with them,” he rasped, voice weak.

Lance hooked his bow into its holster and put his freed arm around the nymph’s waist, using the other to guide the nymph’s arm around his shoulders. “Come with me,” he said, making his words softer. “You’ll be welcomed to our citadel, I promise.”

The nymph nodded, completely trusting, as he sagged against Lance. “You feel like lightning,” he murmured.

Despite the pressing situation, Lance felt a little smile twitch at the corner of his lips. “I could say the same for you,” he said. He jostled the nymph upright again, and began to lead him through the trees back towards the citadel. “Come now, save your strength. I need you to focus on staying awake, alright?”

“Alright,” he muttered, his breath hot against Lance’s neck. He was leaning into Lance like Lance was the only thing keeping him upright, and that might have very well been the truth. 

“Tell me your name.”

“Keith.”

“I’m Lance,” he said. “You’re a far way away from fire nymph territory, Keith.”

Keith murmured something undecipherable.

“Stay awake,” Lance repeated. He tried not to let his concern bleed into his voice. He’d never thought that he’d be lucky enough to find his mate, and now thinking that he’d lose him so easily… It made his chest tighten.

“Thank you,” Keith murmured, his feet dragging.

“Thank me later.” Lance squeezed his waist. “I’ll get you all fixed up, right? Just stay with me.”


	46. Keith/Lance - Starfish

Lance was the kind of person who rarely slept for more than a few hours without waking. Unless he was incredibly exhausted, or sick, then it was likely he’d wake up by himself within a few hours of dozing off. This didn’t particularly bother him, because he was often still too sleepy to really understand what was going on, and rolling over and shutting his eyes was a perfect way to fall asleep again without any problems.

He was also the kind of person who could fall asleep practically anywhere, anytime. He never got motion sick, so he could sleep in the car or on the train perfectly fine. And he always somehow managed to get himself into a comfortable position, no matter where he was sitting. He’d fallen asleep at desks before, and at the kitchen table using his arms as a pillow. He’d fallen asleep with his head tilted over the edge of an armchair. He’d fallen asleep with his knees as his pillow, his legs drawn upwards in a way that looked uncomfortable but wasn’t. 

One thing he did sometimes struggle with was the actual act of falling asleep. He found that it helped to have noise in the background – like his sister talking on her phone in the next room over, her voice muffled through the wall, or the sound of his mother tapping around the kitchen downstairs, plates clinking and the quiet rumble of the dishwasher going. Since moving out, he liked to have a fan on while he slept so that its rhythmic whirling could ease him to sleep. 

Having Keith around helped, too.

Although he refused to admit it himself, Keith did snore a little. He was quick to fall asleep and quick to rise, and the smallest noise could wake him up. Once a car had backfired a street over and it had been loud enough to wake him, though Lance only knew this because Keith’s restless shifting had stirred him from sleep. It was Keith’s snores that lulled him to sleep most nights, now. 

He never would have thought that he’d come to like hearing someone snore. It wasn’t really a pleasing sound, no matter who it came from. His father’s snores were terrible and could only be drowned out by closed doors and quiet music. But Keith’s snores were small and even, and they were easy to tune out if need be. 

Lance liked sleeping beside Keith. He was a good person to share a bed with, all things considered. He hardly ever stole the sheets and was warm enough to be his own furnace. He’d figured out that if he held Lance at night, then Lance was less likely to spread out like a starfish. Lance knew that Keith had been hesitant about sharing a bed, but he seemed to enjoy it now. He always became grumpy when Lance stayed up much later than he did.

It was a cute way of saying he liked sleeping beside Lance, too.


	47. Keith/Lance - Count

Lance didn’t really notice he was starting to get ill until his head began to hurt. Normally a headache or some other illness preceded being sick, but this time seemed to be different. He didn’t feel particularly sick, not until it was late at night and he was lying in bed for no apparent reason.

It started with a weird little feeling in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t quite feel tired enough to sleep, but he sort of knew that he shouldn’t be doing anything strenuous, so he stayed in bed most of the evening. He only ate lightly, and tried not to worry Keith too much, who was used to him being energetic and loud.

He wasn’t really sure what he’d caught, but it did end up catching up to him during the evening. He developed a fever that made his head spin, and his throat felt constantly dry no matter how much water he drank. He stayed curled up in bed utterly miserable, reluctant to do anything other than sleep or take medicine.

Lance knew he was lucky to have Keith with him. All things aside, Keith could be endlessly patient when it came to Lance’s antics. He didn’t exactly know how to take care of someone, at least not completely, but he knew the basics, and that was always enough to make Lance feel better. He was the one who got Lance medicine, and who filled his glass when it emptied. He did it without asking.

“How are you feeling?” Keith asked, as he sat on the edge of the bed. It was almost time for him to sleep – Lance had heard him go around the house checking the windows were closed and locking the doors.

“Terrible,” Lance croaked. The medicine was helping a little, as was the wet flannel Keith had placed on his forehead. He just wanted to sleep off his fever now.

Keith joined him in bed a small while later, laying down on top of the covers. “I’m going to stay with you until you fall asleep, alright?”

Lance offered him a wane but appreciative smile. Whenever one of them was sick, the other had to sleep on the couch so they didn’t catch the illness. As much as he wanted Keith with him, he didn’t want Keith getting sick too. “Okay,” he said, reaching out for Keith’s hand.

After switching out the lights, Keith began to trace gentle patterns over Lance’s palms. The motion was so repetitive and calming that Lance was distracted from his aching head, and after a few minutes, felt himself begin to drift off. He was only faintly aware of Keith tucking him in and leaving the room after pressing a feather-light kiss to his forehead.

Lance trusted Keith to care for him when he was ill like this. He knew Keith trusted him, too. It was one of the many reasons he loved Keith as much as he did. 

He could always count on him.


	48. Keith/Lance - Warlock

Lance did not expect to have a hellhound for a neighbour. To be fair, his neighbour was actually a warlock – like him – who owned a hellhound. Regardless, it was still an unsettling experience to suddenly find himself being stared down by the dog. 

It was easily the largest hellhound he’d ever seen. They came in all shapes and sizes, and had the ability to look like a normal dog if they chose, but this one clearly did not. Its fur was mostly black, aside from white-blue markings on its head and chest, and electric blue markings around its eyes, its ears, and up its legs. It had a mane of thick silver fur from the top of its head all the way down to its tail. The most disconcerting thing about it, however, were its yellow irises – the only colour in its completely black eyes.

He could feel it staring at him from across the lawn as he moved in. He couldn’t decide if it was just eerie or downright creepy.

Moving in was made much easier with magic. Lance had perfected the art of simple house chores thanks to his parents, who wouldn’t let him or his siblings use flashy magic around the house, and made them study household spells if they insisted on using magic to make their chores easier. He had boxes unpacking themselves, clothes flying onto hangers in the closet, and sheets stretching neatly over his mattress. The only heavy lifting he did was with carrying the boxes from the moving truck, as well as furniture he was capable of lifting – the moving guys did the rest for him.

It was as he was bringing in the last of his stuff, after the movers had left, that he noticed the hellhound again. It seemed to appear out of nowhere; one moment the street was empty, the next the dog was standing at the divide between their yards, its eyes fixed on him. To say he was weirded out was an understatement. 

It wasn’t like he had anything against hellhounds. His eldest brother had one that liked to disguise itself as a sleek, silver greyhound (it never seemed to realise that normal greyhounds, however, couldn’t breathe fire). He was just a little concerned for his familiar, Blue, who had the form of a Russian Blue cat (he liked to think her name was very fitting). She was fine with his brother’s greyhound, but there was no telling how she’d react to a strange hellhound.

He didn’t even know what powers it had.

In any case, he supposed it should be alright, considering the hellhound didn’t seem to want to go beyond its owner’s yard. Lance knew he should’ve probably gone to introduce himself the first night he moved in, especially because Blue would be wandering around now, but he’d really been too tired to socialise. He decided, instead, that he’d go over the next morning, since it was the weekend. 

He decided to take Blue with him, too. She did not appreciate being woken from her morning nap in the sun, but he scooped her up anyway, and headed over to his neighbour’s house. He definitely didn’t expect the hellhound to appear out of nowhere the moment he stepped through the front gate.

It could teleport, then. 

“Nice dog,” he said, laughing nervously as he held Blue closer to his chest. The hellhound lowered its head, ears pricked forwards. Its teeth were bared but it wasn’t snarling, so he took that as a good sign. “I’m just coming over to say hi, okay? I live next door. Right over there.”

The hellhound seemed utterly uninterested in what Lance had to say. Its expression hardly changed, not even a twitch of a whisker. Lance knew it was intelligent, just as intelligent as his familiar, who understood almost everything he said (that she was willing to listen to, anyway). But the hellhound didn’t respond.

Swallowing, Lance began to edge past it, slowly and carefully. It watched him but made no move to stop him. He let out a slow breath, and continued towards the front door, when it suddenly appeared in front of him again, flashing into existence between one blink and the next.

“What the…” He didn’t think he’d ever get used to seeing teleportation like that. It was so seamless, so easy, that he knew the hellhound must have done it a lot. “Well, aren’t you just something?”

Blue was giving the dog a curious look as well, her eyes wide and unblinking. She had a hell of a stare but the dog didn’t seem intimidated at all, which was surprising. Lance could feel Blue becoming restless, likely wanting to explore the dog at her own leisure, but he kept a tight hold of her as he made his way to the front door.

A quick round of knocks and the owner appeared.

Lance certainly did not expect him to be so attractive. A warlock with dark hair and violet eyes stared at him, expression not unwelcoming, but guarded.

“I live next door,” Lance said, utterly thankful for how evenly the words came out. “I just moved in…?”

Recognition flashed through his neighbour’s eyes. “Oh yeah. I’m Keith.” He held out his hand.

Lance shuffled his grip on Blue to shake it. “Lance. And this is Blue.” He held her up. “Uh, she’s my familiar. Thought I’d introduce her since your hellhound was kind of staring all day yesterday.”

Keith’s eyebrows went up. “He was? He doesn’t usually take an interest in other people.”

Lance tilted his head to the side, confused. “Yeah. I mean, he followed me all the way up your path, too. Kept teleporting in front of me.”

“Huh.” Keith peered over Lance’s shoulder, looking for the hellhound, which suddenly appeared beside him. He dropped a hand down onto the dog’s head. “That’s unusual for Cosmo, he must like you.”

Lance wasn’t sure how he felt about that, but he felt himself smiling. “Well I like him too! I was worried about Blue for a bit.” He turned Blue away and whispered, “She can get a bit argumentative at times,” only for her tail to smack him in the face. She dropped from his arms to instead sit in front of Cosmo, staring at him with a challenge in her eyes. He sat too, and stared back.

Keith cracked a small smile. “Maybe she can keep Cosmo company, then. He always teleports where he shouldn’t.”

“He’s welcome to come over and find Blue if he wants,” Lance said.

“He’s going to teleport right into your bathroom when you least expect it,” Keith said, completely deadpan. “I speak from experience.”

Lance couldn’t help but laugh at that. “A troublemaker, then?”

“Just curious, mostly.” Keith paused. “He’s good for transporting food, though. I used to tie a bandana to him and send him down the kitchen at home.”

Lance grinned. “Very inventive. I’ll keep that in mind.”

After picking Blue up again, Lance said goodbye, and made his way back home. Cosmo teleported beside him the entire time, never letting him get more than a few feet away before appearing beside him.

What an interesting neighbour.


	49. Keith/Lance - Mouse

Keith was silent as he slipped out of bed, careful not to pull on the bed sheets or lift himself from the mattress too quickly. He all but held his breath as his feet touched the carpeted floor, quieter than a mouse. When the omega beside him didn’t stir beyond a little sniffle, he let out a breath, and made his way to the bathroom.

In the last month or so, any slight change had woken Lance from sleep, whether it was a noise or a shift in the scents around him or even Keith getting out of bed. His instincts had ramped up to a whole new level after he’d fallen pregnant with their first pup, and now – six months into the pregnancy – he was experiencing the strangest variety of pregnancy quirks, including the ability to wake up at the smallest disturbance. 

Which was not ideal, considering how draining the pregnancy was on him. He bounced between having limitless energy and sleeping for long, uninterrupted hours. Keith was just relieved that he was past the morning sickness stage, since that had done nothing to help with Lance’s sleeplessness. But that phase had come and gone, and he was hoping this restlessness would eventually leave, too.

For now it meant being extra quiet when he got of bed and when he was moving around the house. He’d learned the hard way that his footsteps were enough to wake Lance, as was him simply leaving the bed, or going to the kitchen and back.

After using the bathroom, Keith slipped back into bed, gently pulling the sheets away to fit himself in beside Lance once more. It was pleasantly warm beneath the covers, enough to make him sigh. Lance liked to keep warm so Keith always made sure there were plenty of blankets on the bed for him, even if it meant he sweltered at night. His omega’s comfort was more important to him than his own, after all.

There was another quiet sniffle from Lance as Keith settled in beside him. The omega rolled over so that he was facing Keith, his nose twitching as he pressed closer. The roundness of his baby bump prevented him from getting too close, but that didn’t seem to bother him. Keith put an arm over his waist, his fingers splayed wide against Lance’s back. He watched the omega’s face closely, wondering if he was going to wake up.

When he didn’t, he let out another little sigh, and began to draw small patterns on Lance’s back. He loved having Lance close, and was rather satisfied by the feel of his belly trapped between them knowing that his pup was safe and sound inside his mate. He was confident Lance would get a full night’s rest that night, which was ideal, especially considering how tired he’d been.

He wanted nothing but the absolute best for his little growling family. After all, there was nothing in the world as important to him as they were.


	50. Allura/Lance/Shiro - Challenge

When Allura realised that Shiro was exactly Lance’s type, it was like an epiphany had come over her. She liked to think she was a fairly perceptive woman, and that if she put her mind to things, she could succeed in working them out. She liked a challenge, and the challenge that suddenly came before her was a mighty one.

Setting up her boyfriend with a boyfriend of his own was hardly a simple thing to do.

To be fair, she also wanted to be with Lance. He’d someone managed to charm her, though she had no clue how. His puns were terrible, and he could be awfully clumsy when he was flustered. Somewhere along the line, his mannerisms had gone from exasperating to endearing, and now she rather missed him when he wasn’t around. 

It helped that she knew Lance was interested in her – had been from the moment he introduced himself, terrible pun included. Lance tended to wear his crushes on his sleeve, so she knew he liked Shiro too, even if he was far less obvious about it. To her, it was obvious in the way Lance acted around her boyfriend, the way he watched Shiro with awe-filled eyes, the way he always listened to everything Shiro said. It was cute.

She also supposed it helped that she had a great nose. As an alpha, her sense of smell was quite heightened, and she could sense the subtle shift in the pheromones Lance exuded when he was around them. As an omega, Lance’s scent was incredibly expressive, and very pleasing to her nose. She knew it was the same for Shiro, though his nose wasn’t quite as keen as hers.

For a while, she and Shiro had been talking about turning their mateship into a triad. As secure in her relationship as she felt, having two alphas without any sort of middle ground could be challenging. That wasn’t to say that two alphas couldn’t be together – they were clearly proof of that – but it would be nice to have an omega balancing them out. Namely, Lance.

In fact, they probably would never open up their mateship to anyone unless it was Lance. He was perfect for them.

Convincing Shiro of that was her current task. Allura tended to come to these sorts of conclusions much quicker than her mate, despite his intelligence and emotional integrity. Shiro could be clueless when it came to matters of the heart – she’d been the one to ask him to court, after all. And it had all worked out in the end, hadn’t it? Now they needed to ask Lance for permission to court.

A question aided by the fact that Lance had a big crush on Shiro, which was the thought Allura kept coming back to. She already knew that Lance liked her, and that if she asked him to court, he’d undoubtedly say yes. But she wanted Shiro to ask him. It would prove that Lance was just as enamoured with Shiro as he was with Allura, something she knew Shiro quietly doubted, and it would definitely made Lance feel more wanted by the pair of them.

The only way to convince Shiro that Lance actually wanted them was to talk to him. 

“How can you tell he likes us?” Shiro demanded, as he moved around the kitchen. The minute Allura had brought up this conversation he’d started cooking, just to keep his hands occupied. 

Allura was amused by his stress-cooking. She sat at the kitchen bench, resting her chin in her palm. “He smells sweeter when you’re around,” she said. It was clear that Lance liked her and Shiro knew that; he was doubting that Lance liked him, and Allura was determined to convince him it was true. 

“But that could mean anything,” Shiro insisted. “You know he looks up to me.”

That was true. Shiro and Lance shared a career path, so it was natural for Lance to admire Shiro’s skills. “It’s more than that,” she told him. “He admires you, yes, but it’s more than just from a career perspective. He likes you because you take him seriously, and you always listen to his opinions.”

“That’s because he has interesting opinions.”

Allura smiled. “Most of the time, yes. You’re sweet on him Shiro, and it shows.”

Shiro turned his back to her as the tips of his ears went red. “Does it…?”

“Yep,” she said, smug. “Of course it does, you’re just a big softie on the inside. I can tell when you’re being all big-gentle-alpha.”

“Is it bad?”

“Not at all,” she reassured. “You don’t see the way Lance looks at you when you do something sweet for him. He loves all that sort of romantic stuff.”

A faint smile twitched at the corner of Shiro’s lips. 

“That’s why you should be the one to ask him. He’ll appreciate it more coming from you,” she continued. 

“He’d appreciate it coming from you too, you know,” Shiro said, amused. “He worships the ground you walk on.”

Allura flushed. A deep, alpha instinct of hers was pleased by that. She wanted the omega she favoured to like her, and hearing her beloved mate say so meant a lot. Shiro spent just as much time watching Lance as Allura did, so she trusted his judgement. 

“But if you think I should ask,” Shiro started, his words trailing off as his cheeks reddened. He met Allura’s eyes, giving her a searching look.

“I think you should,” she confirmed, beaming.

“Then I will,” Shiro said. He looked far more nervous than he sounded, but Allura had confidence in him. If anyone was going to win her the omega she loved, it was Shiro. He loved the same omega, after all. 

Allura leaned back, a feeling of content swelling through her. When she thought about Lance finally, finally joining their mateship, she could barely contain her excitement. She wasn’t sure when she’d become so infatuated with him, but she wanted him in a way she’d only ever wanted Shiro.

She knew that the dynamics between them would change, but she was ready to welcome it. With two alphas, there was always a degree of competition, always a need to prove they were a viable protector. It would be different with an omega around – some alphas unknowingly competed for the omega’s attention, but Allura was certain they wouldn’t be like that. It was more likely that they’d team up to pamper Lance, since that was what she could see them already doing, like in the way they held the door for him, or made him text them that he got home safely after a night out.

In any case, she was looking forward to it. She wanted to be able to lay claim on her two favourite boys, to have her scent on them. She knew she would feel more complete with Lance as a mate, as would Shiro. 

“Make sure you don’t chicken out,” she teased, grinning.

Shiro perked a brow. “And why would I?”

“Because I invited Lance over for dinner.”

Shiro fumbled with the cutlery he was holding. “You what?”

“Well I know you’d make way too much food!”

“Allura!”


	51. Lance/Shiro - Freezing

Lance checked his phone for the thousandth time, staring at the numbers displaying the time as if his gaze could make them move faster. The wind outside was chilly, and he wished he’d brought a jacket with him, but he hadn’t thought to. It had been warm in his house, but less so out here. His long-sleeved turtleneck just wasn’t cutting it outdoors.

There were no missed messages from Shiro, much to Lance’s dismay. He’d been waiting by the train station exit for twenty minutes now, even though his train had been on time. Shiro was meant to swing by so they could walk down to a nearby restaurant for dinner. He was glad they hadn’t made a reservation, otherwise they would have missed it by now.

He sighed as he checked the time once more, a worried frown furrowing his eyebrows. He and Shiro had been friends for a while, but the dating thing was fairly new. He knew that Shiro had previously had a few reservations about dating Lance – mostly, he had been concerned about losing the close relationship they already shared, which was something Lance could understand. But he couldn’t imagine Shiro ditching him out of the blue like this, even if he had been harbouring some second thoughts that Lance hadn’t known about.

Another gust of wind raced its way over Lance, sneaking beneath his sleeves and under the small gap between his neck and the collar of his shirt. He shivered, hunching into his shoulders against the frigid breeze.

He was getting ready to either ring Shiro or leave when he heard his name being called.

“Lance!”

He turned at the voice and felt a swell of relief come over him. Shiro was racing over, one hand raised to grab Lance’s attention. Puffs of fog swirled in front of his face, the air so cold it was turning his breaths visible. His cheeks looked flushed with exertion. 

“You’re here,” Lance said, trying not to let his relief bleed into his voice.

Shiro gave him a small smile. “I’m really sorry about being so late.” He waved his phone. Cracks were spider-webbing up from the bottom corner. “I dropped my phone and now it won’t turn on and then my train was delayed and just – ugh. I’m sorry.”

“What a rough afternoon,” he said, offering a small smile too.

“Yeah.” Shiro rubbed the back of his neck. “I really am sorry about being so late, I was hoping you hadn’t thought I’d bailed or anything.”

“It’s okay, really,” Lance insisted. He let out an involuntary shiver as he hugged himself, scowling into the wind.

“Where’s your jacket?” Shiro asked, even as he began shrugging off his coat. “It’s freezing outside.”

“I forgot it.”

“Here.” Shiro draped his jacket over Lance’s shoulders, tucking the sides in close. “You can wear this.”

Lance smiled again. Warmth seeped into him from the coat, which smelt like Shiro’s cologne and faintly like his shampoo. “Thanks.”

Shiro pulled him close. “Anytime.”


	52. Keith/Lance - Bored

Lance yawned as he leaned back in his chair. The office was empty today, and for once, he hadn’t spent all morning on the phone answering and making calls to clients. In fact, he was becoming rather bored about it all. He’d already finished his normal workload, and now there wasn’t anything more for him to do.

Sighing, he rested his chin in his palm, slouching over his desk. He’d taken on this admin job as something a little extra to help pay bills while he was in session at university. Allura’s father had graciously offered it to him when he’d heard through his daughter that Lance was looking for a job. It paid well, and the hours Lance had were all on his days off or scheduled around his classes, which was perfect. 

He just hadn’t expected there to be a day as slow as that day was going. It had never happened before. Usually he was doing at least three things at once, and there was always something waiting for his attention. That day he’d gone through the usual list of tasks by the time the afternoon came around, and was now out of things to occupy himself with.

He was debating whether or not to let his boss know that he’d been doing nothing for the past hour when he heard the elevator across the foyer ding. Looking over the top of the desk wall, Lance couldn’t help but let a surprised grin stretch across his face.

“Keith?”

There was a sheepish smile hiding in the corner of Keith’s lips as he came over to the desk. “I was hoping you’d have a minute,” he said.

“If only you knew! I haven’t done anything productive in an hour.”

Keith’s eyebrows went up. “Slow day?”

“Unimaginably slow.”

Keith held up the bag he’d carried in. “Good. Want to eat, then? If you’re allowed. I bought us lunch from that Chinese place just down the road.”

At the mention of food, Lance’s mouth began to water. “I can definitely go for some food right about now.” He put aside the folders sitting in front of him and dragged the spare chair from the other side of the reception desk over so that Keith could sit. He was sure Alfor wouldn’t mind if he took his lunch break at his desk, since he’d done so before when traffic had slowed for a little while. Having Keith here was just an added bonus – Alfor knew about him too, since they were both friends with Allura.

“I’ve never seen it this quiet in here,” Keith remarked, as he set the food down on the table. He bent to press a greeting kiss to Lance’s forehead before taking a seat. “Has it been like this all day?”

“Pretty much. I’ve taken like… two phone calls today, max.” Lance cracked open one of the plastic containers and inhaled deeply. His stomach rumbled. “Thank you so much for lunch, Keith!”

Keith smiled again. “You’re welcome.”


	53. Keith/Lance - Draughty

Lance liked working with kids, he really did. His family was huge, and there were always children around, so even though he was the youngest of his five siblings, he still had plenty of experience around toddlers and babies. Working at a day care was a good fit for him.

He liked to think his personality suited the job too. He was loud and a bit silly, and he liked to tell jokes that went over better with kids than they did with his friends. Most of the time, kids liked him right off the bat. He was energetic and funny, two things that almost all kids loved. He could keep up with their games but knew how to keep them in line, too. All in all, he really liked his job.

But today… today was testing that love.

The day had started off like any other. The kids had arrived in the morning and their activities had commenced. Lance was in charge of the painting corner because he generally didn’t mind getting a bit messy, unlike the other workers at the day care. There were large tubs of paint and long paint brushes that were perfect for flinging around paint with, which inevitably happened with young kids involved. 

It wasn’t the painting that had made his day do a nose dive. Of course, he’d ended up covered in paint, but that was normal. There was a large sink in the laundry next to the drying rack, where he left the kids’ paintings to dry, that was great for washing all the way up his arms. The basin was deep and had a drain catcher to stop chunks from going down the pipes. All standard stuff, really.

The problem occurred just before lunch. As a general rule, they asked parents not to let their kids have chewing gum before being dropped off. Lance found it incredulous that kids this young were allowed gum in the first place, but they weren’t his kids to parent, so the most he could respectfully do was ask that no chewing gum be brought into the day care. Having a bunch of energised kids all cooped into one location with chewing gum was just a disaster waiting to happen.

And what a disaster it was.

Evidently, one parent had forgotten the rule, and thus a kid had chewing gum. Lance didn’t know who it was, but when lunchtime rolled around and the child no longer wanted the gum, it somehow found its way to the one place it should never be: in Lance’s hair.

He had no idea how, and no idea who did it, but between one minute and the next there was gum in his hair. It was the most disgusting thing to ever happen to him, and the worst thing was, they couldn’t get the damn lump out.

Queue his day turning rotten. His co-workers had to cut a chunk of his hair out so that he could continue working, and when his shift finished, he immediately booked it to the nearest hairdresser. Little could be done about the fact that he was now missing a large clump of hair on the back of his head. He didn’t let himself think about it – he made the best decision he could before he could work himself into a self-conscious mess.

Now he was stuck with an undercut. All things considered, he thought it kind of suited him. The back of his head was definitely draughty, but his hair had been kind of short anyway. It was growing on him. 

“Does it look okay?” he asked Keith, who was the true critic about his new look. He’d ambushed his boyfriend as soon as he’d arrived home, complaining loudly and vibrantly about his day to hide his worry about the change.

Keith hadn’t stopped staring at him yet. There was a very concentrated look on his face – and if Lance hadn’t been with him so long, he wouldn’t have recognised it as one that meant Keith was internally flustered. 

“Looks good,” Keith eventually forced out, the tips of his ears going bright red.

Lance let a grin curl across his lips. “Yeah?”

Keith coughed. “Yeah.”


	54. Keith/Lance - Scald

“Our medical ward is through here,” the water nymph said, as she pulled aside a silky, translucent curtain to reveal a room on the other side. Several shallow pools of clear water sat as high as normal patient beds, their bases made from carved stone. Nurses flittered from pool to pool, attending the nymphs submerged in the water.

Keith had never seen anything like it. Being this close to so much water was making him feel twitchy, but he was here for an important reason, and he had to focus. 

“And you don’t know where the burns are originating?” Shiro asked, arms crossed over his chest. 

The water nymph shook her head, casting a worried look over her shoulder at her pool-ridden brethren. “We have no idea. By the time we find them, there’s no sign of anyone else in the area. We haven’t been able to revive any of the burn victims to ask for answers, either…”

Keith frowned. He walked over to one of the unattended pools, where a water nymph was lying unconscious. Long strands of healing seaweeds were wrapped around her right arm, up around her right shoulder, and pasted over the right side of her face. Her expression was pinched, even in sleep. All water nymphs had a protective sheen on their skin that allowed them to walk on land without drying and gave them an added hydro-boost in the water – it took a lot to burn through it.

He wasn’t even sure he’d be able to cause this much damage, and he knew his flames were incredibly powerful.

“You really have no idea what caused this?” he asked, turning back towards their guide. 

She shook her head, dismayed and frustrated. “None. We have our most talented trying to work it out, and our best healers working to restore our wounded, but this is beyond our comprehension.”

Shiro matched Keith’s frown. He was an air nymph, and had been asked to accompany Keith to the water nymph territory in case he could offer helpful insight. 

But, all things considered, he seemed just as clueless as Keith felt. What could possibly be attacking water nymphs with enough heat to not only burn right through their protective sheen, but to leave unhealable marks and induce comas? Keith couldn’t think of anything with that much power. Only an extremely high-ranked fire nymph – one even stronger than Keith – might be able to make a flame that hot, but fire nymphs knew not to target water nymphs. It would cause a world of political problems and endanger the currently peaceful relationship they had.

“It can’t possibly be natural causes,” Shiro said, more to himself than to their guide or the nurses listening in. “There are no lava geysers near here, and no active volcanoes.”

“There are no fire nymph tribes nearby either, so it can’t be one of us,” Keith added, meeting Shiro’s eyes across the room as he turned away from the pool. “Not that I can think of anyone strong enough to cause this much damage in the first place.”

Shiro hummed in agreement. “Maybe a beast…?”

Keith considered it. There were certainly a number of fire beasts that could produce a flame hot enough to severely injure a water nymph. Numerous, in fact. But he questioned whether one would stray so far away from the firelands. Most fire beasts lived deep within active volcanoes or on fire marshes, where blazes constantly erupted at the slightest breeze. 

“Any number of fire beasts could’ve done this,” Keith conceded, “but I doubt they’d wander this far into the waterlands. There are too many streams and lakes near here. It’s too wet an environment.”

“None of the earth beasts that wander into our lands can produce flames,” their guide explained. “We briefly considered the possibility of a fire beast, and well… that’s why you’re here.”

Keith nodded. “I’m sure we can help,” he promised. Aiding the water nymphs would strengthen the bond between them and the fire nymphs. And, when it came down to it, Keith wanted to help. Seeing the injured nymphs stirred a protective feeling in him. This was meant to be peaceful times, and he knew that the water nymphs would help his people just as much if they were in need.

He was preparing to ask another question when there was a flurry of activity from just beyond the medical ward’s curtains. The nurses perked up immediately, faces twisted with concern. After a moment, a group of water nymphs stormed in. 

It was clear from a single glance that there had been another attack. One boy was hanging off the shoulder of another, his head lolling with unconsciousness. There were terrible, steaming burns running down his neck and chest.

“What happened?” a nurse fretted, rushing forwards to help the taller nymph heave the boy into the closest empty pool. 

“The same as before,” the nymph said, pressing a hand to the boy’s cheek as he groaned in pain. “Can you heal him?”

“We will try,” the nurse assured with a fierceness that surprised Keith, as another brought over an armful of seaweed.

The taller nymph stepped away, but almost immediately sagged. Keith darted forwards to catch him without thinking, taking the majority of the nymph’s weight against his chest.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

The nymph blinked at him, looked drained and only half-awake. “You’re a fire nymph,” he said, dazed.

“I’m here to help.” Keith helped the nymph stand, but narrowed his eyes when he noticed the nymph wincing. “You’re injured,” he accused.

“Is that true, Lance?” a nurse demanded, her eyes darting towards Lance at Keith’s words. 

Lance balanced himself against Keith as he peeled up the hem of his wet tunic. His skin was bruised red, like he’d just missed the brunt of an attack. “I didn’t even notice until now,” he said, eyes wide with surprise. His gaze darted to the newest injured nymph. “I just wanted to help him…”

“Let me get a salve,” the nurse said, before disappearing.

“Does this mean you saw the beast?” Keith asked, as he helped Lance limp over to a free pool. 

“Not exactly,” Lance said. He sat on the edge of the pool and dipped a hand into the water, spreading the droplets over his scald with a hiss. “It was all just… a blur, really. But I do know this – I don’t think the attack is fire based.” He tugged at his wet tunic. “The burns are coming from boiling-hot water. Hotter than anything I’ve seen before.”

Keith’s eyebrows went up. He remained silent as the nurse returned to attend to Lance, who pursed his lips and bore the stinging salve with a grim expression. 

Something tingled at the back of Keith’s mind, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t grasp the thought properly. 

“Are you confident you can help us?” Lance asked, once the nurse had left once more. “Not that I’m doubting your skills, but…” He gestured around the room at his injured people. 

Keith nodded. “I’m sure,” he said. He would be certain to solve this. “Will you be well enough to help? You’re the only nymph around here who’s been so close to the beast and not fallen to it.”

“I’ll be fine,” Lance said. “You never told me your name, by the way.”

Keith sat up straighter. “Keith,” he introduced, holding out a hand. 

Lance shook it. His grip was sturdy, but his skin was surprisingly soft. “I’ve never met a fire nymph before, but I’m glad that you’re here. We could use another perspective.”

Keith flashed a small smile. He wasn’t usually so comfortable around strangers, but something about Lance appealed to him. His determination to protect his people was something Keith could definitely relate to.


	55. Keith/Lance - Impromptu

Lance wasn’t usually the type of person to fall asleep outside of his bed. He generally made a habit of going to bed at the same time every night, or at least as often as possible, and didn’t usually fall asleep anywhere else unless he was really tired. 

That evening, he fell asleep on the sofa in the lounge room. He napped on the sofas every now and then, but not at night. He hadn’t even thought he was tired. One minute he’d been nestled against the arm of the couch with all the blankets in reach, and the next he was firmly asleep, as if by magic. 

To be fair, it was kind of late; past the time he would have usually retired to bed. He was up waiting for Keith to get home. It wasn’t often that Keith went out socialising, especially without Lance, but that night he had. He wasn’t going to drink since he was driving, so Lance wasn’t worried about him, but he still wanted to wait up to make sure he got home alright. Clearly that hadn’t exactly gone to plan.

When he woke from his impromptu nap, it was to the sound of Keith’s car pulling into the driveway. He yawned and rubbed sleep from his eyes, sitting upright as he waited for Keith to come inside. He didn’t have to wait very long, and if Keith seemed surprised to see that he was still awake when he wandered in, he did a great job of hiding it.

They retired upstairs together after turning off all the lights. Lance threw himself straight into bed, already sleepy again. The bed sheets were much more comfortable than the sofa downstairs. He nuzzled his face into his pillows as he made himself comfortable, listening with half his attention as Keith had a quick shower in their bedroom’s adjoining bathroom.

By the time Keith turned out their bedroom lamps and joined him, Lance was mostly asleep again. He felt the mattress shift under Keith’s weight, and the gentle tugging on the sheets that meant he’d stolen more than his fair portion and Keith was trying to wiggle some back from him. A little mumble escaped him at that, but he rolled over a little, letting the sheets go. Keith didn’t often want them – he was practically a furnace – but Lance had learned to share anyway. 

Falling asleep in bed was much better than falling asleep on the sofa. He had peace of mind knowing that Keith had made it home okay, and having Keith nearby always relaxed him into an easy, dreamless sleep. He liked listening to Keith’s breathing, and was always more comfortable with the weight of Keith’s arm around his waist. Ever since they’d started sleeping in the same bed, drifting off had become much harder without him.

Despite being tired, Lance was sure Keith fell asleep first. It made him smile to know Keith felt the same when it came to their shared bed.


	56. Keith/Lance - Kitchen

Keith wasn’t a great cook. In fact, the inability to cook ran in his family. His father tended to burn things or severely undercook them, with no in-between stages. His mother was no better at making decent meal. Even if she had a wide, variable palette, she had no idea how to make food taste good. Her food was always incredibly bland, or covered in spices that didn’t go well together. 

There was little doubt in his mind that he’d inherited their awful cooking skills. Like his father, he tended to burn things at a moment’s notice. Something would always draw his attention away from the food, and it would end up burning before he could stop it. And like his mother, he had absolutely no idea what flavours went well together. Theoretically he knew, because he liked to eat them, but cooking was another matter altogether.

Not even Shiro, who he considered to be a brother to him, could cook. 

He supposed he was really lucky, then, that his boyfriend was a fantastic cook, and everything he made turned out delicious. Lance’s whole family was good at cooking, actually. Food was a big part of their lives, so Lance had grown up appreciating well-cooked meals. Keith was sure he’d gained weight just from eating so much of Lance’s delicious food.

Another good thing about having a boyfriend who could cook was that said boyfriend liked to teach him how not to be a disaster in the kitchen. Slowly but surely, Keith’s cooking skills were improving. After moving in together with Lance, he’d started cooking dinner at night. At first, he’d just been in the kitchen to keep Lance company, but eventually Lance started giving him little tasks. He went from peeling potatoes to chopping vegetables to making stews and broth. He liked to think he was definitely getting better with Lance guiding him.

Plus, it was nice to spend time with Lance in the kitchen. He’d never fully understood how cooking could be a communal pastime, since it wasn’t a very big thing in his family. But Lance was changing his mind about that, too. Working with Lance in the kitchen was quite enjoyable, even if he didn’t do much of the work.

Really, even if he couldn’t cook, he could at least clean up afterwards perfectly fine. Whoever didn’t cook would clean, and well. He never really cooked.


	57. Keith/Lance - Scent

Keith could smell the cloying scent of omegas in the air. He had the urge to cover his sensitive nose but resisted, knowing that it might be seen as offensive. The only reason he was visiting the omega residence was to find a mate, so he didn’t want to potentially offend anyone he might be compatible with. 

He still wasn’t sure he really wanted to be here.

“You seem nervous,” Shiro said.

Keith shot him a sour look. Truthfully, it had been at Shiro’s insistence that Keith come here. Shiro himself had met his omega mate, Adam, at an omega residency a few years ago. It was a common way to find a mate. Many presented omegas who didn’t find a mate within a few months of presenting would take up residency at an omega house, where they could continue their education and prioritise finding their mate at the same time. 

All things considered, the business was actually quite clean and classy. All omega residents were screened, as were all alphas, betas, and omegas who came looking for a mate. It was more of a match-making business than anything, even though some extreme groups thought the process of showing off omegas was barbaric. 

Keith didn’t think so, obviously. He’d talked to Adam about his experiences, and knew enough about omega houses to know that everything was consensual and safe. It was no secret to modern society that omegas were the most vulnerable of the three secondary dynamics, and the most subjugated as well, though equality movements were slowly improving that. 

Still, he wasn’t sure if this was the right choice for him. He’d visited a few omega residences, including the one Adam had come from, but nothing had come from it. He felt awkward around so many omegas, and could never relax enough to discern whose scent he found pleasing, let alone have a proper conversation with someone. 

“All you need to do is let your instincts guide you,” Shiro coached. Those were the same words he told Keith every time they went to an omega house, but it never seemed to help. Keith couldn’t focus on understanding what his instincts were telling him when he was so distracted by his surroundings.

“Easy for you to say,” Keith couldn’t help but mumble. “You already have a mate!”

Shiro clapped him on the back. “Just get in there, you coward.”

Keith huffed, but Shiro’s teasing did manage to calm him down a little. 

Visiting alphas like Keith were only allowed in certain parts of the omega houses. There was a large meeting hall where most of the omegas interested in finding a mate could be found. The hall itself was wide and airy: one wall was made of glass doors leading out onto a patio and garden, while the others had long windows to let in plenty of natural light. Food and drink was served at regular intervals, and there was a place sectioned off near the omega entrance where omegas could take a moment to survey the room.

Despite it being early morning, there were already a lot of people in the room of all gender dynamics. Chaise lounges and café-style tables sat scattered around the hall. The scent of omega was strong in here – none of the omegas wore scent blockers so that it was easier for them to assess their compatibility with someone else. It was meant to be helpful, but it just made Keith’s head ache.

Shiro had to leave him at the door, so Keith entered the hall alone. He stood by the wall, trying to sort through all the scents blocking his nose. One of the rules that the house enforced was that a person had to be sitting down if someone wanted to approach them. That way it was easier to gauge interest, and meant there was no awkward confrontations between anyone.

Like usual, it was hard to clear his head. Most omegas smelt pleasant to him, but he’d never really come across one with a scent that really stood out. He wondered if he was being too picky, but there was no sense in lying to himself. 

At least it looked like there were a lot of people here. He didn’t like socialising with large crowds, but it meant there was more variety in personality. Maybe someone here would be compatible with him.

It was as he was looking around the room when his nose picked up something unusual. Not a bad unusual, just something… unexpected. He walked around the room, sticking by the wall as he tried to let his nose guide him. The scent was… clean. Like the ocean breeze, he thought. Something natural mixed with something sweet. It was enticing enough to catch his attention, but not overpowering enough that he couldn’t breathe through it. 

Eventually, the source of the scent became obvious. There was an omega draped across a chaise lounge by one of the windows, his back mostly to the room. He had his chin resting on the back of the couch, eyes turned out past the white curtains by the window. His skin was dark, and his hair was a warm brown, curling delicately at the nape of his neck. 

Keith was enamoured.

He’d walked over before really realising what he was doing. That soft scent drew him in. “May I sit?” he asked.

The omega jumped at his voice, bright blue eyes darting up to meet Keith’s hopeful expression. “Sure,” he said after a moment, as he moved his legs to give Keith space.

Feeling flustered already, Keith took a seat, and looked out of the window. “What were you looking at?”

“The birds,” the omega answered, pointing. “In the tree over there, see? With the blue feathers.”

Sure enough, there were birds in one of the trees out in the garden. When they hopped through beams of sunlight let in through the tree’s leaves, their feathers flashed blue. Keith thought they were beautiful.

“What’s your name?” the omega asked him.

“Keith.”

“I’m Lance.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Keith said, because it was. Up close, Lance radiated a warmth that Keith was quite attracted to. Not to mention Lance was beautiful, and his scent was perfect. He was surprised that no one else had talked to Lance before he got there, or that Lance didn’t already have a mate. Why would someone so beautiful need to be here?

“So why come sit over here?” Lance asked, curious. 

Keith tried not to go red. “Your scent… I really like it.”

Lance’s eyebrows went up. “Really?” He hesitated for a moment, before adding, “Most people think it’s boring.”

Keith frowned. He couldn’t believe that. “But you smell good,” he said. “Better than everyone else here.”

Lance’s cheeks coloured. There was a bashful smile playing in the corners of his mouth, and his eyes were brightening. “Really?”

Keith nodded.

“Thanks.” A crooked but endearing smile took over Lance’s face. He leaned closer, taking a deliberate and teasing sniff of Keith’s scent. “You smell good too, you know. Better than everyone else.”

“Really?” Keith parroted, unable to help himself.

Lance tipped his head back with a joyful laugh. “Really!”


	58. Keith/Lance - Light

The light from Lance’s gaming console was bothering Keith’s eyes a little bit. He’d just turned their bedside lamps off and he was ready to sleep. He’d spent all day working on their first pup’s nursery, and while he was more than happy to renovate the baby’s future bedroom, it was quite tiring work. Rewarding, but tiring.

“Are you planning to sleep anytime soon?” Keith asked, as he glanced at his omega out of the corner of his eyes. Lance was still sitting upright, propped up against his pillows. All of their bed sheets were pulled up into his lap so Keith couldn’t see his baby bump, but he knew it was there.

“Sorry, I will in a bit,” Lance said, as he angled the screen away. “I just want to finish this level. I’m so close!”

“It’s alright.” Keith rolled onto his side and pressed his face against Lance’s leg, breathing in his mate’s scent. Ever since Lance had started showing, his scent had intensified tenfold, and it was addicting. Keith had never smelt anything so good.

“How’s the nursery going?” Lance asked, as he continued to press away at his game.

Keith couldn’t begrudge him for playing it. The pregnancy at the moment was being real tough on him – he’d been up all the previous night throwing up into the toilet, and he hadn’t been able to keep anything but dry crackers and ginger tea down today. Lance had found himself so dizzy with exhaustion when he tried to stand that he’d remained in bed all day, only getting up to go to the bathroom with Keith’s help. Playing his game was one of the only things he could go without feeling sick.

Unfortunately, it meant he hadn’t been able to see what Keith had done in the nursery during the day. “The last wall is almost finished with its last coat of paint,” he explained. He had to keep the door shut so the fumes didn’t bother Lance’s sensitive nose, which meant all the windows in the room were open. “I’m going to start on building the cupboard tomorrow.”

“The one going beneath the shelves?”

“Yeah.”

“Sounds good.” Lance spared him a proud grin.

Keith smiled back, and finally closed his eyes as he rested more comfortably against the mattress. He snuck a hand under the sheets and felt out Lance’s leg, tracing his palm up towards Lance’s slightly rounded stomach. His bump was somehow both soft and firm beneath Keith’s palm, and feeling it satisfied a deeply instinctual part of him. 

He couldn’t wait to meet their baby.

After a few more minutes, Lance shut off the game, and put the console on his bedside table. He slid down beneath covers, murmuring nonsense when Keith let out a grumble, before sticking himself against Keith’s chest.

“Not feeling sick?” Keith asked, half-asleep.

“Nah.” Lance nuzzled under his chin. “I’m feeling much better tonight.”

“Good.” Keith kissed his forehead. “Sleep well.”

“You too,” Lance said around a yawn.


	59. Lance/Shiro - Umbrella

Lance stretched out on his towel with a yawn. It was cooler in the shade of the umbrella stuck in the sand beside him. Seawater was already drying on his skin and in his hair, but he didn’t mind. He loved visiting the beach, especially since all his friends had been able to come this time around.

On the towel laid out next to his, Shiro appeared to be half asleep. He’d gone for a dip in the water like Lance had, but had gotten out earlier. He looked dry already, and like the warmth of the sun was slowly but surely lulling him to sleep.

“Comfortable there?” Lance teased, as he propped his himself up on his side to stare at his sleepy boyfriend.

Shiro hummed, his hands crossed over his chest. He normally went bare-chested at the beach, with a generous helping of sunscreen of course, but today he’d worn a shirt and kept it on. Normally, he would have been over playing a round of beach volleyball with the rest of their friends, but he was still getting used to his new prosthetic, so he’d opted out. In solidarity, Lance had too, though he wouldn’t tell Shiro that. It was easy to believe he was just being a clingy boyfriend.

Lance glanced over at the volleyball net. Keith was being as competitive as usual, but Pidge could be a surprisingly powerful opponent when she wanted to be. Being that small certainly had some speedy advantages. Lance would have usually joined in since he was quite competitive as well, but he wanted to stick by Shiro today. 

“Did you have fun in the water?” Lance asked, turning his attention back to his boyfriend.

“Yeah, it was a good day to come down here today,” Shiro said, opening his eyes to glance at Lance. “You don’t want to play volleyball?”

“Nah.” Lance shook his head and laid down properly, stretching out with an exaggerated sound. “I feel like napping.”

Shiro gave him a small smile.

Lance matched it. He stared at the underside of the umbrella with nothing in particular on his mind, and after a few minutes, he heard Shiro start to snore. He had the cutest little snores, even if he’d deny their existence anytime Lance mentioned it. Lance turned his head to watch him with that little smile still on his face.

It was nice to see Shiro relaxing like this. He was normally quite active, and always wanted to participate in games and outings as much as he could. He wasn’t the type to slow down and relax when he could be moving. But today, he’d given himself the time off, and had taken things easy. He needed to for his arm, since he wasn’t used to his prosthetic arm.

Plus, he looked completely adorable when he was dozing like he was, so Lance was more than happy to watch him sleep. He looked so content and calm, and Lance loved seeing him that way.


	60. Keith/Lance - Materials

Lance barely muffled a yawn as he strolled down the shop aisle. He was only a few months pregnant, just enough to show, but he was already constantly exhausted. Other omegas had assured him that he’d get his energy back eventually, but he was still half doubtful about that. Some days it was hard for him to open his eyes, let alone get out of bed.

But today he’d made himself run some errands. He was still having intense nesting instincts, and it didn’t look like they’d stop anytime soon. Even before he’d fallen pregnant, he’d been a furious nester, so he wasn’t really surprised that pregnancy had done nothing to quell those instincts. 

In any case, one of the only things that was currently helping was stocking up on baby supplies. He loved buying little blankets and jumpsuits, and even things like rattles and other small toys. He’d even started to buy clothes not only for newborns, but for babies who were several months old. He felt calm when he added to his collection.

He wanted his baby to have everything they needed, after all.

“Are you alright?” Keith asked, as he ducked closer to press his nose against the back of Lance’s neck, taking a small whiff of his scent. Keith had an unnaturally good nose, even for an alpha, and he’d always been able to get a hint of what Lance was feeling from his scent. 

“Just tired,” Lance assured.

Keith hummed. He’d become much more protective since Lance had fallen pregnant, though he was making a strong effort not to smother Lance too much. But he still made sure to accompany Lance whenever he left the house, especially since he was nearly constantly exhausted. Lance actually appreciated his company, even if Keith was worried about being smothering. He wanted Keith’s opinion on the things he was buying for their baby.

“If you’re sure,” Keith said, but he put a comforting hand on the small of Lance’s back anyway. 

Lance leaned into the affectionate gesture. He plucked the onesie he’d been staring at off the shelf and rubbed his thumbs over the fabric. It was incredibly soft to the touch which satisfied a deeply instinctual part of him. He always made his nests with the softest materials he could find.

“What do you think?” he asked Keith, without glancing away from the little onesie. It had an embroidered fish on the chest, and cute blue buttons. They didn’t know the gender of their baby yet, but that didn’t stop Lance from buying all sorts of clothes. He had a feeling his baby was going to be a boy but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t be wearing pink.

“It’s cute,” Keith agreed. “Do you want it?”

Lance nodded.

Keith passed him the basket over.

Lance was pleased to know that Keith wasn’t bothered by his nesting instincts. He liked having Keith in his nest too, so having Keith’s approval of his nesting materials was very important to him.


	61. Keith/Lance - Flame

Ash rained down from the upper levels of the palace. Lance coughed and spluttered as smoke burned his throat and nose. He dashed down the southern hallway, dodging burning curtains as they collapsed off of the wide windows lining the wall. He could still hear screams echoing from the upper floors, and the frantic hissing of water as it hit the firestorms ravaging the palace.

It felt like his entire world on fire.

Another wracking cough rattled through Lance’s chest. He’d tried to cover his mouth with the neckline of his tunic but it quickly became more important for him to hold the ends of it up so that they wouldn’t catch on fire. He tried not to breathe in too much smoke as he ran for the front entrance, but it was impossible not to. He was panicking too much to control his breathing.

“Prince!”

As Lance finally made it to the entrance hall, a soot-stained guard called for him. Lance squinted through the plumes of ember-filled ash billowing down from the upper balcony but the moment he laid eyes on the guard, they were engulfed by flames.

Something ugly and terrified swelled in Lance’s throat. He stumbled backwards, narrowly avoiding a chunk of stone that had fallen from the doorway when the entrance hall had been stormed. He looked around for other guards, or his family, or anyone familiar, but his eyes were swimming, and the smoke was becoming too thick. 

“Allura!” he shouted as loudly as he could. 

He’d last seen his big sister heading for the library, and that was the most flammable place in the entire palace. The guards that had come to fetch him from his room had been sent from her after he’d forced them to go. He’d thought he’d be able to get out of the palace by himself, but the flames had spread too fast. 

When there was no response from his sister, he shouted, “Dad!” He hated the way his voice trembled but he couldn’t hide his fear. 

But the King didn’t respond, and Lance couldn’t help but collapse in a fit of coughs. Panicked, he stumbled for where he knew the palace front doors were. He waved his arms through the smoke, eyes pinched shut against the heat. 

His home, his family–

They were all burning. 

A wave of heat came over him as he rushed through the open doors. He cried out as fire licked at the edges of his clothes, singing them black. Dizziness overwhelmed him, and before he knew it he was slumped on the ground, unable to keep himself upright anymore.

A weak moan escaped him. He tilted his head up as a shadow fell over him. A fire wielder, like the ones invading the castle, stared down at him. Something about his face… about the look in his violet eyes, made something strange spark in Lance’s chest.

It was the last thing he saw before everything went dark.

 

Lance woke to a stinging in his hands. He forced his eyes open and stared down at himself, lifting his bandaged hands into view. Had he been burned? More importantly, it looked like someone had treated him. 

He pushed himself upright but immediately regretted it. His lungs ached something fierce, and moving so fast without taking a steady breath first made him wheeze. He clutched at his chest, eyes watering.

His noisy exclamations clearly drew the attention of whoever had brought him here. The door to the room opened, and a familiar face appeared – the fire wilder. 

Frightened, Lance threw out his arm. Water from the shallow bowl sitting on the table beside the bed he was in burst upwards, tunnelling towards the fire wielder hard enough to throw him backwards and slam the door shut. Lance stared at the back of the now-wet door and lowered his arm, already exhausted again. 

What happened to his family?

“You should have expected that,” a muffled voice said, from beyond the door. 

“Can you get me a dry coat, please? I don’t want to hear it.”

“You’re just going to get wet again.”

There was a flash of orange light from beneath the door, the same light that came from fires.

“It’s not like I can’t dry myself.”

Lance kicked his blanket off. He was in a bedroom, but it wasn’t one he recognised. His room at the palace was large and spacious, and had all the comforts a water wielder would need – his soft bed, a shallow pool of water for him to lounge in, and all the things a prince like him could want. This room was the opposite: sparse, small, with no unnecessary decorations. He could hardly see any sign of personalisation, other than a red coat hanging by the door, and a dagger on the bedside table beside the empty water dish.

He was still dressed in his underclothes, but his tunic had been removed and replaced with something simple and scratchy. His feet were bare. When he tried to stand, his knees buckled. He hit the floor with thud, knocking the dish and the dagger off the stand as he did.

“I’m coming in again,” the fire wielder warned. 

Lance tried to lift the water from the ground as the door was forced open, but he didn’t have the strength to hold it for long. The effort made him cough.

“Calm down already.” Hands curled under Lance’s armpits, hauling him back up onto the bed with ease. It was the same fire wielder as before, the one he’d seen at the palace. 

“What do you want from me?” Lance demanded, voice raspy.

The fire wielder frowned at him. “Nothing. Now stop talking, or you’ll make it worse.”

Another stranger appeared in the doorway, presumably the one who’d been speaking before. He was taller than the one with violet eyes, and had a thick scar running over the bridge of his nose. He gave his friend a disapproving look as he handed him a coat. 

“Keith, I told you to be gentle,” he chastised.

The fire wielder – Keith – only scowled. 

Lance pressed back as far as he could go, his heart racing. He didn’t know if he was going to pass out or suddenly gain enough strength to fight back.

“We mean you no harm, Prince Lance,” the tall one said. “You’re in the firelands now, in a safe house. We had a healer treat your wounds.”

Lance swallowed but it did little to relieve his sore throat. “Why? You attacked the palace!”

“Not us,” Keith said, folding his arms across his chest. “Other fire wielders.”

Lance frowned. He’d always had the view that the firelands were just as unified as the waterlands. He’d never heard of rebel factions. Why would some fire wielders attack the palace, while others supposedly protected its inhabitants?

And what about the rest of his family?

As if the fire wielders could read his mind, the taller one said, “The rest of your family made it out alive. The King is still in the waterlands, but the Princess is here in the firelands, at another safe house. It was at your father’s orders that we bring you here.”

Lance’s eyebrows shot up. “My Dad’s?”

He nodded. “There’s been unrest in the outerlands lately,” he explained. “Word of an impending attack on the water palace and the earth palace reached our Queen, who immediately informed the other rulers. This was the best plan we could come up with to protect the heirs.”

“Then the earth Prince…?” Worry filled Lance’s voice. He was good friends with Hunk, the heir to the earthlands. They’d known each other since they were children, and were of a similar age.

“Is safe as well.”

“How am I expected to believe you?”

The fire wielder dug through the folds of his cloak and pulled free a necklace. Lance recognised the pendant hanging from it immediately – it was the blue, droplet-shaped crystal his Dad always wore. There was no mistaking it.

“That’s my Dad’s necklace,” he whispered, holding his hand out for it. When the pendant was dropped into his palm, he could feel the King’s power thrumming through it. He held it to his chest and let its energy soothe his pains. 

“Look, Shiro and I were tasked with protecting you,” Keith said, pinning Lance down with his stare. “We need to keep a low profile, so no water wielding.”

It took a moment for everything to sink in. When it did, Lance felt his eyes abruptly fill with tears. What was he meant to do now? Hide while his family, his people, were in danger? He couldn’t do that.

“Keith,” Shiro snapped, as Lance began to cry, “what did I say about being gentle?”

Keith’s composure seemed to slip as his hands hovered above Lance’s shoulders. “Wait, why are you crying? Stop crying!”

Of course, that didn’t stop Lance from crying. He ducked his head, his face pressed into his hands. He wanted to see his Dad and his sister. He wanted to know his home was safe. He’d never had a good mind for political strategies, but he knew that rebels from no specific kingdom banding together couldn’t be a good sign.

An arm went around his shoulders. It was awkward and tense, and it made Lance shy away. When he glanced up, Keith was stubbornly looking away from him, even though he was sitting so close. He held out a palm, and a flame began to dance just above his skin. Lance flinched at the sight of it.

“Just look,” Keith said, gruff.

Against his better judgement, Lance did.

As he stared at the flame, its shape suddenly began to change. It went from a standard flame to something that looked like a seashell, exactly the same as the ones that he often found on the beaches near the castle. Then, right before his eyes, it changed into a rolling wave. And after a moment, it changed again, this time taking the form of a water-droplet, just like the crystal on his Dad’s necklace.

Lance was mesmerised. “How do you do that?”

“I can teach you,” Keith said. His eyes were on Lance now, who met his gaze. “If you promise to stop crying.”

Lance sniffled, and wiped at his face. “Okay.”

Shiro let out a sigh. Lance had almost forgotten he was there. “I’m going to go get more water, alright?” he said, as he scooped up the fallen dish. “Then we’ll have a look at your hands.”

“Okay,” Lance repeated. He couldn’t deny that some part of him felt almost… safe, with Keith around. It was the same spark he felt before – like the power in him recognised Keith, or that some guiding hand was pushing them together. 

His Dad had always told him to trust his instincts, and maybe giving his necklace to Lance’s protectors was a reminder of that. 

“Are you sure my sister is safe?” Lance asked, when Shiro had left the room. “My Dad, too?”

Keith nodded. “They’re safe.” After a moment, he added, “You are too. I… didn’t mean to scare you or anything. Before, I mean.”

Lance gave him a weak smile. He could sense Keith’s honesty. “It’s alright.” His eyes fell back to the flame above Keith’s palm. It had reverted back to normal. “Can you show me again?”

Keith matched his smile. “Sure.”


	62. Keith/Lance - Bait

Keith did not like this plan. His silence was more protest than any words could provide, so he stubbornly kept his opinions to himself, knowing that the others were very aware of his position on this whole ordeal. 

“Stop frowning,” Lance hissed, digging his elbow into Keith’s side. “This’ll work, Keith!”

His frown deepened. He remained silent.

Beside him, Lance huffed, and turned his gaze away.

Could Lance really blame him for being so against this? What if the situation had been reversed, and it was Keith who was acting as bait? He knew Lance wouldn’t have let him do it. So why did Lance expect him to agree with this stupid plan?

As much as he hated it, he could see why it was an idea the group would logically consider. They were currently hunting down a mythical beast said to live in the forests surrounding a town situated at the base of a mountain. There had been numerous reports of an ice-breathing attacker ravaging the village, one that was destroying homes, stealing valuable objects, and kidnapping people with blue eyes. Everyone had wandered back into the town in a daze a few days after their kidnapping and were left relatively unharmed, but that wasn’t the point. 

If a dragon or some other beast had come down from the mountain, then it was the job of the Queen’s Paladins to deal with it. Normally, they could deal with mythical beasts using a combination of strategy and brute force. All five of them had a unique power gifted to them from Queen Allura so that they could defend the borders of Altea to the fullest extent. 

Keith just didn’t understand why they couldn’t attack the beast head-on. Why did they have to lure it out of hiding when they could simply storm its resting place and either chase it back up the mountain or kill it? Why did Lance have to be put in harm’s way?

Because he had blue eyes, that’s why. He was the only Paladin with blue eyes, which meant that the beast might taking a liking to him, and show itself. 

While the others discussed the plan, Keith scowled, his eyes pointedly fixed elsewhere. It was no secret that he and Lance were together – at least, it wasn’t a secret anymore. They’d managed to hide it for quite a while before slowly becoming more affectionate in public. By the time one of their fellow Paladins had thought to bring up the question of their increasing closeness, it was evident they were in a relationship. Keith preferred it when no big fuss was made, and thankfully, the shock had worn off just as quickly as it had arrived.

Regardless, his fellow Paladins knew he was protective of Lance.

“It won’t be that bad,” Lance insisted, catching sight of Keith’s sour expression once more. He was never able to hold his tongue, not like Keith could, no matter how stubborn he was. Lance was the type of person who preferred to talk things out, even if that meant talking at Keith more than talking with Keith.

“You could get hurt,” Keith said, unable to stop himself. Shiro, Hunk, and Pidge were too busy planning to notice when he and Lance stepped away. “We don’t even know what the beast is yet.”

“And we won’t know unless we do something to lure it out of hiding,” Lance told him. “We can’t risk it kidnapping someone from the village. They’re not soldiers Keith, they’re innocent people. What if they got hurt in place of us?”

Something ugly coiled in Keith’s gut. As infuriating as it was, he knew Lance’s points were right. The job of a Paladin was to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves. They weren’t around to settle petty disputes or stop thieves (though they did those things on occasion), they were around to defend against mythical beasts and large-scale threats to the kingdom. They did what ordinary soldiers could not.

And sometimes that meant putting themselves in danger, even if it was reckless. Keith knew that. He’d done it himself before when there had been no other choice. In fact, they all had. But he didn’t want to think of Lance putting himself in harm’s way, especially when he might not be there to help him.

Lance put a comforting hand on Keith’s shoulder. “The plan is solid, Keith,” he said, his voice as steady as the look in his eyes. “Just because I’m acting as bait doesn’t mean I’ll be helpless.”

“But we don’t know how it’s kidnapping people,” Keith pointed out. He hated how frustrated he sounded but he couldn’t have hidden that even if he tried. “What if it just grabs you and flies off? What if it freezes you solid? Hypnotises you?”

Lance gave him an indulgent look. “I doubt it’s going to hypnotise me.”

Keith scowled again.

Lance traced his palm up to Keith’s neck, holding him firm. “I’m not going to get hypnotised,” he said. “I’m not going to be frozen solid. I’m not going to be grabbed and made off with like a damsel in distress. You know why?”

Keith shook his head.

“Because I have you to protect me, of course,” Lance said, flashing a quick smile. “Who else is going to watch my back as closely as you are?”

“Thought you were going to say it was because you’re too tough to need anyone else’s help,” Keith murmured.

Lance grinned. “That too.”

Keith ducked to press his forehead against Lance’s. For a moment, neither one of them said anything. In the end, nothing needed to be said. Since they’d become closer, Keith had become able to read Lance’s silence just as well as he could read Lance’s words. He trusted Lance to be able to protect himself when it came down to it. He’d proved himself over and over as a Paladin.

And, more than anything, he trusted his own strength. He’d do anything to keep Lance safe.


	63. Keith/Lance - Shopping

Lance was exhausted. It had been a long day of running around doing various chores and errands for him, and he was aching to get home and fall asleep. He probably shouldn’t have left everything until the last minute. Every time he shut his eyes for more than a moment he was sure he was going to fall asleep right then and there.

But at least he’d knocked a lot of chores off of his to-do list. He had a large family, so whenever the holidays came around, there was always a lot for him to do. This year, their Christmas get together was being held at one of his aunt’s houses, so he didn’t need to worry too much about decorations or food. For the most part, he was only interested in buying gifts for his loved ones.

One of his favourite things about this time of year is giving gifts. He liked giving them almost as much as he liked getting them, especially when the gift was well thought-out and planned. He actually enjoyed Christmas shopping. 

That year, he’d roped his boyfriend into doing their shopping with him. Keith wasn’t really a fan of shopping, and he didn’t usually enjoy gatherings if there were more than a handful of people there. He was comfortable around their friends and his family, but strangers or people they didn’t see often – like the extended family – took a bit of warming up to for him. 

But that didn’t stop him from shopping for them. To be fair, he was more like the person who carried the basket than the one doing the shopping. Lance generally had a better idea of what people wanted for Christmas, or at least what they wouldn’t mind getting. If it were up to Keith, everyone would probably get a box of chocolate, or something. 

In any case, Keith accompanied Lance during his Christmas shopping trips that year. It took him a bit but he seemed to get into it after a while, even offering helpful suggestions every now and then. Keith was becoming much more comfortable around larger crowds and it was showing in the way he actively participated in events he would have shied away from two years ago. 

Lance was proud of him. There was nothing better than seeing his boyfriend getting along with his big family – nothing other than seeing Keith happy, of course.


	64. Lance/Shiro - Vixen

Shiro tipped his glass to the side, watching the golden liquid inside slosh towards the rim without spilling over the edge. He probably should’ve been listening to what was going on at the table around him, but his mind was elsewhere.

Lately he’d found himself… bored. A mob boss should never be bored. There was always something he could be doing. He controlled the largest section of the underworld in the city, and had the largest amount of disposable income sitting at his fingertips, most of it illegal. But what to do with it all? There were only so many banks to rob, so many heists to orchestrate, so many rivals to crush beneath his boot…

“Shiro,” Keith snapped, kicking him under the table. “Pay attention.”

Shiro cast him a sour glance. There were only a select few people who could get away with treating him like that, and unfortunately Keith was one of them. He set down his glass with a little more force than necessary. “Let’s rearrange another time to discuss this,” he said.

Keith scowled, but even he knew better than to mess with Shiro when he was feeling moody like this. He pushed away from the table and shooed away their guests – thugs, business owners, people who probably wanted to kill him but knew they would die trying. It was always good to keep his enemies close, he thought. Showed them that he was the king of the underworld for a reason.

Now alone at an empty table, he cast his eyes out over the club. It was a nice place. Expensive, but worth every penny to those who came. The dance floor housed a mass of writhing bodies bathed in neon lights streaming down from above. There was a spacious stage for live music – tonight, a rock band with seductive and energetic undertones – and a bar large enough to need a dozen pretty bartenders roaming behind it. 

For important guests, and himself of course, a wraparound platform raised above main floor along the outer edges of the room housed private tables. They were mostly used for meetings and gambling, and for people-watching. Shiro was partial to watching the goings-on of his club, especially since a number of rather attractive patrons loved to frequent. 

Keith reappeared at his side a moment later, hands folded behind his back. “You didn’t hear a word they said,” he accused.

“No,” Shiro agreed, “I didn’t.”

“What’s gotten into you lately?”

Shiro picked up his glass again. “We’re in a dry period,” he said. Nothing new had happened in a while. No mass murderers running around, no crazies breaking out of the asylum the next city over, no ambitious thugs clawing their way to the top. The city was becoming too settled with its current leaders, criminal and otherwise. That could never be good.

“So? Doesn’t mean you’re not still making money,” Keith said. 

“Money isn’t everything,” Shiro said, flippant. 

“It’s a lot of things.”

That was fair enough. Money did make a lot of things easier. Bribing people, for example. Especially cops. Their salaries really weren’t all that great. 

Keith gave him a suspicious look. “You’re bored.”

A little smile twitched at the corner of Shiro’s lips. “That obvious?”

Keith scowled. “I can’t believe you. You can literally do anything you want and you’re bored.”

“What can I say? I like a little action.”

“You’re going to get yourself killed one day.”

Shiro supposed he couldn’t argue with that, either. Most mob bosses didn’t live long enough to grow grey hairs, let alone die of natural causes. He wasn’t sure how he was going to die, hadn’t really given it much thought. But it probably was going to be at the wrong end of a gun.

Standing, Shiro moved to the platform’s balcony, where he had a better view of his club. Across the room, a couple of the bartenders glanced up, their eyes drawn to him. Perfectly trained. He shook his head, letting them know he didn’t need another drink. 

What he needed was something interesting to take up his time. 

Suddenly, something prickled at the back of Shiro’s neck. He glanced towards the club entrance, where a few heads had turned. When he followed their gaze, he found an unfamiliar face slowly making their way across the floor. And boy, what a pretty face it was. 

But a new face in his club was not something he often saw.

It seemed like the newcomer had caught Keith’s attention, too. There was a soft _snick_ as his prized dagger came free of the holster on his thigh.

“Wait,” Shiro said, steadying Keith with a hand. He ignored the way Keith shifted restlessly. He was always so quick to jump to violence, and generally that was something Shiro liked. Tonight was different.

The newcomer paused for a moment, looking around the club like it was nothing more than a playground to him. His eyes roved over the bar, over the dance floor, before finally coming to a rest on Shiro, like it was an effort to look at him. Then, without any hesitation, he made his way towards the balcony. 

Intrigued, Shiro let him approach. 

“And how did a little thing like you get in my club so easily?” Shiro asked, leaning an elbow on the railing as he turned to face the newcomer. 

“Your guards aren’t that hard to sneak past.”

Shiro couldn’t help but laugh. The man before him was rather attractive up close – high cheekbones, soft brown hair, eyes bluer than the sea. He was wearing tight-fitting pants and a flattering button down. Shiro could tell he was slim but muscled, like a swimmer. He was shorter than Shiro, as most people were, but still on the taller side. Really, it was his eyes that were the most beautiful part of him. One bat of those thick lashes and any man would fall for him. 

“I guess I’ll have to find better guards, won’t I?”

The man shrugged, smiling in a way that absolutely intrigued Shiro. It was rare that someone was so confident around him. In fact, this type of confidence was completely new to him. Assured, sultry, completely at ease… Shiro found it utterly charming.

“I’m Lance, by the way,” the newcomer said, holding out a hand with perfectly manicured nails.

Shiro shook it. He didn’t introduce himself – he was sure Lance already knew who he was. He wouldn’t have come here otherwise. “It’s unusual for someone to approach me so directly,” he remarked.

Lance smiled again, just a little. “I think we both know that I wouldn’t have made it here if you didn’t let me. Can we sit?”

Shiro swept out his arm. “For you? Sure.”

Lance took a seat at the table. “I have a favour to ask for.”

Shiro sat across from him, and raised his eyebrows. “A favour?”

Lance nodded. 

“And what could you possibly want from me?” he asked, tracing a finger around the rim of his glass. He leaned closer, lowering his lashes just a little. “We hardly even know each other.”

Lance didn’t seem intimidated by him at all. It was thrilling. “You’re right,” he admitted, looking a tad shy, “but I’m in a rather pressing situation.”

“Oh?” Shiro leaned back. “What has a vixen like you gotten yourself into? An unfortunate debt? A misunderstanding with a mob boss? A touch of trouble with an ex?”

“Something different,” Lance said.

Shiro took a long sip of his drink. Lance waited patiently. “And you think I can help,” he stated. 

“Yes.”

“What is it, then?”

Lance bit his lip. “You know Allura Altea,” he said.

Something ugly twisted in Shiro’s chest. He was surprised to find it was jealously. A few minutes with this boy and he was already becoming possessive. “I do,” he said. Allura was his… counterpart, for lack of a better word. Just as powerful as him, and just as conniving, but they weren’t on the same side. Allies, yes. Partners? Definitely not.

“I need something from her,” Lance said. “Medicine.”

Shiro hummed in thought. Allura was known for the medicine she made. She could practically bring people back from the dead. Shiro supplied her with money and materials, and in exchange she patched up all of his men free of charge. They’d done each other so many favours over the years that it was impossible to keep track of them.

“Then why not ask her directly?” 

Lance hesitated, his brows furrowing for a moment. “I have nothing to offer her.”

“But you have something to offer me?”

“I think so.” The confidence came back as Lance met his eyes. 

“And what would that be?”

“I want to make a bet.”

“A bet?”

Lance nodded. “If I win, you get me the medicine I want from Allura.”

“And if I win?”

“Well, then you can have what you want from me.”

“I already have a lot of things,” Shiro said, gesturing around the club with a flick of his wrist. “What more could I need?”

“Something interesting.”

Despite himself, Shiro wanted whatever this interesting thing was. He had half a mind to believe Lance was bluffing, but he couldn’t think of a good enough reason not to take up his offer. After all, if he lost, it wasn’t like he was losing much. A favour from Allura was just one of hundreds. Nothing. But the promise of something interesting? That was something he wanted, even if it turned out to be a farce. Just the promise itself was intriguing.

“Alright,” he said, with a slight nod of his head, “what kind of bet do you want to make?”

“Shiro,” Keith hissed from where he stood just behind Shiro’s chair. Shiro ignored him.

“I know there’s a shooting range out back,” Lance said, as a sudden intensity came to his eyes. “You shoot better than me, and you win.”

Shiro was surprised. “You’ve sure done your research,” he said. Most of the people who knew about the shooting range were only there to play target. It wasn’t like it was a proper range. Actually, it was just a couple of targets spray painted onto the brick wall in the back alley. Not exactly classy, but definitely useful when he was bored and trigger-itchy.

“Will you take the bet?”

Shiro stayed silent for a moment, just to test Lance’s patience, but he was utterly unfazed. “Alright,” Shiro said. He stood, and held out a hand. “Shall we go then?”

Lance blinked at his hand, as if he hadn’t expected Shiro to take him up on his offer. Then he took it, and let Shiro pull him closer. Shiro normally felt quite powerful, but even more so when he had such a pretty morsel on his arm.

He guided Lance through the club and towards the back, where only a few were given clearance. Keith reluctantly followed them.

The alley out back wasn’t as disgusting as some, but it wasn’t great, either. They descended down a short flight of concrete steps and towards the furthest section of alley, located at the farthest point away from the street. The misshapen target signs were chipped and faded, but clear enough to see the bullseye. The bricks had to be replaced every now and then, but it was good fun.

“How does three shots each sound?” he asked, as he pulled a revolver out from his shoulder holster. He didn’t typically use guns like that, but for show they were good. The gun was already loaded with a full six bullets.

“Sounds good,” Lance said. He was eyeing the targets with a renewed look of interest. “Can you go first? So I know what I’m up against.”

Keith scoffed, but Shiro was undeterred. 

“Sure.” He walked a few paces away, clicked off the safety, and raised the gun. After steadying his hand, he levelled off three even shots. One hit dead centre, and the other two hit the wonky inner ring, close enough to the bullseye to satisfy him. “How did I do?” he asked, as he handed the gun over to Lance.

“Perfect, as expected,” Lance said.

Shiro grinned at the compliment. “Think you can do better?”

A strange spark came to Lance’s eye. “I know I can.” Without looking away from Shiro’s eyes, he held up the gun, and fired three times.

“What the…” Keith trailed off.

Shiro’s gaze whipped towards the target. All three bullets had hit the bullseye dead centre. In fact, they’d all hit the exact same spot. The bullets had dug a tunnel at least an inch deep into the brick.

“Well, well, well,” Shiro breathed, voice low and pleased. “Quite the sharpshooter, aren’t you?”

Lance handed him the gun back. “Do I win the bet?”

“You sure do, little vixen. Though I must admit,” Shiro said, giving Lance a meaningful look, “I’m kind of sad that I don’t get to have what I want from you. But a deal is a deal. I’ll get you your medicine.”

Lance tilted his head to the side. “What do you want from me?”

Shiro let a salacious grin touch his face. “How much can I have?”

Lance flushed, but he still didn’t seem particularly put-off by Shiro. “You’ll really get me the medicine?”

“Of course. I keep my word.”

Lance gave him a relieved look. “Thanks.”

“I’m quite serious about wanting you around though,” Shiro said, pressing closer. “I could use someone with such a steady hand.”

“Really…?” Lance asked, voice thick with disbelief. “Don’t you have… a lot of people with guns? And knives.”

“Yes, but no one can shoot that straight.” He jerked his chin towards the targets. “And besides, you’re rather interesting. I’d love to see your pretty face around every day.”

Lance smiled.


	65. Lance/Shiro - Wonderful

Shiro was a light sleeper. He always had been, even before his accident, which had left him a little jumpy around loud noises. He couldn’t manage to sleep through a car backfiring, or a door slamming, or something that sounded similar. Despite that, he didn’t really hate that habit of his. He found that going back to sleep after waking up wasn’t as difficult as some might imagine.

It was easier when he was sleeping beside Lance. They’d bene living together for a year now, and Shiro still hadn’t quite gotten over the little joys of being with him pretty much all the time. As far as sleeping went, Lance was the perfect person to share a bed with – at least in Shiro’s opinion. He had a bit of a habit of stealing the covers, but since Shiro tended to kick them off, he didn’t really mind. And he liked Lance’s quiet, even snores, even if Lance denied their existence with a passion.

Most of all, he found it impossible to feel bad when he knew Lance was right there beside him. Sometimes he had nightmares just like any other person, but the terror always receded when he felt the weight of Lance pressing down on the mattress beside him. And sometimes, when he couldn’t sleep no matter how hard he tried, simply watching Lance was enough to calm his mind.

There was just something about having Lance there that made everything easier for him.

He’d never told Lance that, because he thought he might make Lance embarrassed. It was something he kept to himself, something to keep his thoughts entertained with when sleep evaded him. He used to spend sleepless nights tossing and turning, frustrated and irritated with himself beyond belief. Now he’d grow not accept that sometimes his mind was just too jumbled to settle, and he had something calming to keep himself occupied with. Things like meditating and yoga and reading had only ever done so much for him, but watching Lance? It almost felt healing, in a way.

He put those thoughts down to the fact that Lance made him feel so comfortable in his skin. It didn’t matter what he wore, or how he felt about himself – Lance would always compliment him, and he would always be sincere about it. He had a way of making Shiro feel good about himself that was compete addictive it was no wonder Shiro’s troubled thoughts were always soothed around Lance. His boyfriend accepted him exactly as he was and didn’t love him any less for being a little damaged.

Sleeping next to Lance was just better. He liked listening to Lance breathing, and he loved the feel of Lance in his arms, or of being in Lance’s arms. If he happened to wake up during the night, he’d watch Lance until his eyes began to droop and fall back asleep in mere moments. Nothing made had ever him feel more at ease. It was wonderful.

Lance was wonderful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the 365th one in this series, so I've written a year's worth of stories for it, which I thought was pretty interesting!


	66. Lance/Shiro - Valiant

Shiro was used to rescuing and defending people. As a Knight of Altea, one of Queen Allura’s most trusted and skilled guards, he had to be at the top of his game at all times. There were always threats to the kingdom, and he was one of the very first people called upon to deal with them. 

He’d lost count of how many missions he’d been on to rescue kidnapped villagers. Poachers always took omegas and children to sell them to other lands, to people who would mistreat and abuse them. Allura took her duties as Queen – and as an alpha – very seriously. She advocated for equality, and fiercely protected her borders against those who opposed such ideals.

Her Knights reflected her ideals. Shiro himself had never found his destined mate, but that didn’t stop him from protecting the mates of others. He could admit that he found himself quite jealous when other Knights had wonderful families to go home to, or when he reunited a mated pair. He was deeply envious of their bonds, and wished to experience it himself, but it seemed like fate had other plans for him.

“It’s the same as always,” Allura groused, staring down at the map spread between them. She drew an arched line on the outskirts of her territory, where the forest bridged into the sea. The main port was located closer to Altea’s heart, but there was a small harbour there, one that slave trader ships could sneak in and out of without careful watch.

“How long do we have?” Shiro asked.

“A week.” Allura’s lips twitched downwards. “If that.”

Shiro sighed. He’d only just returned to the palace, but if duty called, he would answer. He traced his eyes further down the map, to a peak in the continent’s edge outside of Allura’s territory, in no-man’s-land. “Have the ships been sighted off the peak yet?”

“This morning.”

Shiro pressed his lips together. “More like four days, then.”

“They’ve taken the hostages from the ocean-side villages already,” Allura said. “I got word of it this morning, just as you returned. They’re going to try and escape through the sea.”

“We’ll get there first,” Shiro said, confident. “Leave it to me, my Queen.”

Allura nodded her head.

 

The ride to the harbour was made in three days only after pushing the horses to their fullest extent. He had a troupe of twelve Knights with him, all of whom were strong and passionate, hand-picked for their valiant hearts and strong desires to carry out the Queen’s orders. He trusted them with the important task they had ahead.

It was night when they arrived at the town, which was what they expected. The poachers had taken half a dozen omegas from a neighbouring village hostage, and were keeping them in the harbour-side town for when their ship arrived. It wasn’t the largest group of poachers he’d taken on, but poachers were known for using dirty tricks, so he had to take caution. 

They left the horses on the outskirts of the town, hidden in the forest. He’d sent one of the Knights ahead to scout out the poachers, and with that information, they’d come up with a suitable plan. The poachers were staying at a shady inn, with their captives chained in the stables behind the main building. 

As much as Shiro wished they could steal away the captives without anyone noticing, the poachers couldn’t be let free. They had to be captured and tried for their crimes. 

Instead, the plan was to lure them out to the stables, and deal with them there. Their top priority had to be the captives. These sort of situations had turned deadly before, for poachers and Knights alike, and Shiro didn’t want to take such drastic measures this time.

But, even with as careful as he was, things didn’t always go to plan.

As an alpha he had a good nose. He could smell the omegas even above the stench of horses and hay, could smell their fear and anxiety. It was a scent he’d smelt a dozen times before, but this time felt… different. Something foreign prickled up his spine.

“Captain?” a Knight whispered, as they lingered behind the stables, watching the poachers exit the inn. 

“Do you smell that?” he asked, glancing at the Knight out of the corner of his eye. “Something different.”

She sniffed the air, but ultimately shook her head.

Shiro put it to the back of his mind. When the seven poachers were in range, he signalled for his Knights to move in. Half the troupe rushed out from the shadows while he and the others slipped into the stables. The sounds of swords clanging and surprised shouts signalled the start of battle. Several of the horses kicked up a fuss, but he darted past them anyway.

The six omegas were in the furthest stalls. He used the hilt of his sword to smash open the rusting locks and pushed into the first. The omega was a young girl, barely out of her childhood. Her eyes were bloodshot and wide, but she softened at the sight of him. Allura’s Knights were easily recognisable.

“Come,” he whispered, holding his hand out for her. She stumbled to her feet, her bruised legs shaking, and he guided her out where one of his Knights was waiting to take her. Four of the others soon joined them, making five.

But where was the sixth?

“Captain, over here,” one of the Knights called. “I can’t release the lock.”

Shiro pushed his way to the last stall, where the strange scent from before was thicker. The lock keeping the stall closed was newer than the others, and the first time round he tried to break it, it remained fast. Determined, he struck the lock a second time, and was relieved when it snapped just like the others had. 

“Go help the others,” he said to the Knight, “I’ll take care of this one.”

The omega inside the stall was huddled up in the corner, his legs just as bruised as the girl’s had been. He looked like he was only a few years younger than Shiro. The moment Shiro stepped into the stall, that scent overwhelmed him, making him stumble for a moment.

He’d never smelt anything like it. Beneath the terror and the dirt and the dry smell of hay was something–

Something really good.

“Are you alright?” he asked, bending to a knee in front of the omega. He had brown hair, tangled and matted with leaves, and blue eyes circled by dark bags, but he was the most beautiful person Shiro had ever seen.

The omega stared at him, mouth open. He didn’t say anything.

Suddenly, a shout came from outside. “Incoming, Captain!” 

A man abruptly fell through the open window, splintering the wooden slats. The omega cried out as he shrunk against the wall, and the sound of his voice sparked something animalistic in Shiro. He didn’t have time to comfort the omega, not when the poacher was climbing to his feet. The Knights outside had already done a number on him – half his face was swollen and he was bleeding profusely from his arm, but even a wounded animal was still dangerous.

Shiro threw up his sword to defend against the blow the poacher threw. He had a shorter sword than Shiro, its edge dulled with blood. Shiro lunged forwards, driving the poacher against the wall, away from the omega. The poacher lunged forwards but Shiro easily side-stepped. 

“Captain!”

Momentarily distracted, he jerked his gaze away. One of his Knights was on the ground, but another was quickly coming to his rescue, her blade drawn. In that one moment, the poacher lunged, his sword aimed high for Shiro’s neck.

“No!” the omega shouted, jumping forwards.

Shiro’s heart stuttered. The omega pushed at the poacher, unbalancing him. Shiro ducked to the side, narrowly missing the blade swinging at him. In one swift movement, he snapped forwards, smacking the hilt of his blade into the side of the poacher’s head. He crumpled to the ground, completely unconscious.

Shiro was panting by the time it was done. He sheathed his sword and turned to the omega, who was shaking. “Are you alright?” he asked again, breathless.

The omega let out a low whimper, his knees buckling. Shiro caught him before he hit the ground, one hand cradling the back of the omega’s head. He felt weak and limp in Shiro’s arms, and was looking at Shiro like he couldn’t quite believe what was happening.

“You’re safe now,” Shiro whispered. He couldn’t take his eyes off of him.

“Captain,” a Knight said from behind him, “we need to go.”

Shiro snapped back to himself, blinking several times. He couldn’t get his arms to let go of the omega, so instead he just picked him up, one arm under his legs, the other around his back. Even wearing his armour he was confident he wasn’t going to drop the omega.

“Round up the poachers and handcuff them,” he instructed, as he exited the stall. 

The Knight seemed surprised that Shiro was carrying the omega, but immediately backed off when they caught a whiff of Shiro’s scent. He hadn’t even noticed he was projecting complete alpha-ness until the Knight flinched.

“Is anyone injured?” he asked as he tried to reign in his scent.

“Two of us,” the Knight reported. “But not gravely. They’re well enough to ride.”

“Alright. Has someone gone to fetch the horses?”

The Knight nodded. “Captain, is he…?”

Shiro followed the Knight’s gaze down to the omega in his arms. The omega had curled up as close to Shiro’s chest as he could get, his face turned into the crook of Shiro’s neck. He was still trembling, but every mouthful of Shiro’s scent he breathed in seemed to be calming him. Shiro still couldn’t let him go.

He’d never felt so protective of anyone before.

It seemed like fate had something planned for him, after all. 

“Yes, he is,” Shiro murmured, tightening his grip.

The Knight sucked in a breath. All of his comrades knew how deeply he’d wished for a mate, how willing and ready he was to give his heart to someone. To think he’d find his destined one in this sort of situation, out of all the ways to meet… 

But now that he had him, Shiro was never going to let go. Everything he did was about protecting Altea, about protecting those who needed it – and his mate needed it now more than ever. Shiro didn’t even know his name, but he already knew he’d do anything to keep this omega safe.

He shook his thoughts free. “Prepare the horses,” he said, striding out of the stables. “He’ll ride with me.”


	67. Keith/Lance - Mermaid

Keith opened his journal, thumbing through newspaper clippings and torn notebook pages. The journal was stuffed full of information he’d gathered over the years, so much so that the covers had to be tied together with a leather string to keep everything from spilling out. Every secret he’d learned about the supernatural was kept inside.

After a moment, he found the page he was looking for, and pulled free a short newspaper clipping, one he’d found over a month ago. It hadn’t seemed like much then, but something about it had lingered in the back of his mind.

Ahead of him stood a small aquarium. Its sign was faded, and the lot out the front was full of weeds pushing up through cracked concrete. The building itself sat right beside the harbour, and could be accessed from a boardwalk stretching out from either side, though the planks were so rotted through that not many people braved walking on them.

Truth be told, he wasn’t here to see the fish. If he wanted to view wildlife he’d go to a much better aquarium. This one was shady and decaying, and smelt more like dead fish than a place advocating for the lives of sea creatures should.

Entering the establishment did little to improve its image. It was dark inside, and after making his way past the front desk – where he flashed the identification card his firm had given him so he could be waved through without a pass by a bored receptionist – he was dismayed to see the lighting situation didn’t become much better. It was, however, still enough to see decently by, and when he cast a glance back down to the newspaper clipping, he could make out the words.

As far as work was concerned, he was only here to report on the conditions of the creatures the aquarium housed. He was the one who’d insisted on making it a story, despite the aquarium’s unpopularity. If his boss knew he was chasing down a rumour – again – then he’d be fired for sure, or at least reprimanded into next week.

For the most part, he spent the better part of the morning wandering around the aquarium, taking notes on what he saw so that he could write an article like he’d promised to. The aquarium was designed to have an almost direct path from start to finish: a person had to go past the small displays of crustaceans, jellyfish and small fish to get to the larger, above-ground tanks full of penguins and seals, then loop down towards tanks full of large creatures like sting rays, large fish, and sharks, walk through an underwater tunnel past the dugongs and dolphins, then travel past the show arenas to reach the exit. 

The displays needed work, Keith knew that. He’d report on them honestly, and likely suggest that the local community come together to support the business – that, or they pressure the business into treating the animals better. But that wasn’t why he’d come to the aquarium. 

He found himself putting away his normal notepad after walking past the bulk of the exhibits. He kept reaching for the newspaper clipping. He’d shoved it in his pocket after putting away his personal journal and the entire time he’d been walking around it felt like a brand against his thigh. Now, when he’d found a private space beside a large tank in a dark hall, he couldn’t help but pull it out again.

Keith had an… obsession with hunting down strange rumours. His job as a reporting journalist combined with his fascination with all things preternatural did not make for a good combination. He’d gone to dozens of circuses and travelling troupes of fortune tellers and seers and seen all sorts of strange, uncanny things. Most of the time the things he heard about were fake, but on the rare occasion it was real… well, it satisfied him to find it, to learn everything he could. That was what his private journal was for. He didn’t want to forget any of the unbelievable things he’d seen.

He was hoping this place would have something unbelievable to see, too.

Something like a mermaid.

The article claimed to have a real-life one. This wouldn’t be the first time he’d chased up such rumours, but cheap parlour tricks could make any swimmer look like a mythical creature. He wanted to believe it, but he was sceptical. It was easier to be sceptical than to have his hopes crushed a dozen times. 

The news article that had started all of this was tiny, one of the smallest that had ever caught Keith’s attention. It was only a few paragraphs with a title declaring that the aquarium had something beyond his imagination. It certainly wasn’t the most descriptive article he’d ever chased up, but something about it drew him in. 

At this point, he was wondering if it was foolishness. Nothing seemed out of place here except the cleanliness standards. Perhaps it was a waste of time. 

He was considering calling it a day when he felt a strange tingling go up his spine. When he turned to glance beside him, there was suddenly a person there, a boy who looked to be about the same age as him. He was wrapped in a cloak with a fur-lined hood that sat neatly on his shoulders. Keith had never seen someone quite so beautiful. Framed in the blue light streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling tank in front of them, he appeared completely otherworldly.

“You’re not from around here,” he said, staring at Keith with curious, blue eyes.

Keith was entranced. “No,” he agreed, “I’m not.”

The man tilted his head to the side. Something about the way the blue light caught the planes of his face and the highlighted the brightness of his eyes was beautiful. “Why are you here?”

Keith thought it was an odd question, since this place was meant to be a tourist attraction, but he kept those thoughts to himself. “I’m here to write a story.”

“Why are you really here?”

Another little shiver went down Keith’s spine. He’d only felt this way a handful of times in his career. He took a moment to think of a good enough answer, and eventually said, “I want to know what’s real and what’s not.”

A light danced through those hypnotic blue eyes. “You do?”

Keith nodded.

“And you’ve done this sort of thing before?”

“I have.”

“And what do you do with the information you find out?”

Again, he took a moment to gather his thoughts. “Nothing that they don’t want me to,” he answered. 

Once, when he’d discovered a real psychic travelling with a group of performers. She was more than content to have her powers thought of as a gimmick, so Keith filed away her existence as something private for him to enjoy as a person who admired supernatural things. 

Another time, he’d discovered a young boy who he was sure was a changeling: he had wings like a dragonfly protruding from his back, slightly pointed ears, and abilities that went beyond what humans could do. He’d been travelling with a circus against his will, and when Keith had found out about him, he’d written an article that was so scathing the circus had been forced to disband, setting the boy free.

“You help people…?” the man asked, his voice taking on an edge of hesitance. “Even if their situation is helpless?”

“You’d be surprised by how damaging a single review can be,” he said.

The man offered him a small smile. “My name is Lance,” he said, offering a hand out from the folds of his cloak.

Keith took it, and was immediately surprised by the feel of Lance’s hand. His skin was smooth and soft, and colder than Keith expected, even though they were inside a chilled room. The edges of Lance’s cloak brushed against his wrist, and it was surprisingly silky, too. Something excited curled up in Keith’s stomach.

“Will you come to the show later?” Lance asked. “I hear they have a mermaid.”

That was the reason Keith had come to the aquarium. “Yes, I’m going.”

Lance offered him a small, relieved smile. “I’ll see you then,” he said, before wandering away.

Keith watched him go in silence. He had a feeling he’d be seeing Lance a lot in the future.


	68. Keith/Lance - Unity

The marriage between the crowned prince of the waterlands and the adopted apprentice of one of the highest ranking figureheads in the fire army was meant to symbolise the end of a war. The history between the two factions was a frayed one, drowned in the pride of the waterlands and scorched by the arrogance of the fire soldiers. 

Neither believed they could be beaten.

Both were wrong.

Water and fire alike had suffered heavy losses. Conflict over territory, over religion, over ideals had led to diminished trade opportunities and almost no exchange of skills, expertise or resources. Constant warring and petty skirmishes had shed blood on both sides. 

When it came down to it, water and fire would always be opposites. Nature could not be overcome. But there could be peace if humanity was to be considered. People could overcome differences if their hearts were guided in the right direction. The people of the water believed that their goddess championed unity. Not only did she control water, the bringer of life, but she united all people through the sea, connecting them from tide to tide. The fire soldiers worshipped a god who championed discipline and strength. To be rewarded as a soldier was of the highest honour. Their god created fire hot enough to burn through all that stood in his way, a fire that reflected the hearts of his soldiers, and unified them as one entity, one army.

Two very different mindsets boiled down to one quality: unity. The marriage was to represent that. 

Lance was dressed in ceremonial robes, blue like the water his people worshipped, lined with shells and pearls and sea glass shaped by the waves into perfectly rounded spheres. He knew his duty as the second child of the royal family. His older sister, Allura, would one day take the throne as the crowned heir. He would marry for the sake of an allegiance.

The wedding was held in a water temple. It was as neutral a place as could be found. Fighting was forbidden in the temples, which meant the people from the water would bear no arms. Since the temple was in the waterlands, the fire soldiers wouldn’t risk being outnumbered on unfamiliar ground. At the very least, Lance was happy to be in a place he recognised as home.

His first glimpse of his betrothed was at the temple. It had always been easy to tell the water people apart from the fire people based solely on exteriors. The water people always dressed in blue, always wore light tunics and gauzy slips. Their armour was lightweight and sleek, so much so that they could swim in it comfortably if need be. High-ranking officials always wore a crown of bleached coral around their foreheads. The fire soldiers always wore red, and had armour forged in the hottest fires known to mankind. They always carried a blade, each as individual as its wielder. Their generals wore masks to conceal their faces, each with individual markings to represent rank.

He knew that his betrothed was meant to wear a mask, but for the sake of Lance’s comfort, had forgone it. His name had been revealed too, to ease Lance’s nerves – Keith. He was standing with his back to Lance as Lance approached, but at the sound of the Lance’s footsteps, he turned. Lance wasn’t quite sure what he expected, but the young face staring back at him was certainly unexpected.

The soldier looked to be about Lance’s age, give or take a few seasons. He had dark eyes and dark hair, and a serious expression that made Lance a little nervous. He stood with his shoulders straight and his hands clasped behind his back, dressed in ceremonial armour that was far more ornate that what he probably normally wore.

As was customary for arranged marriages, Lance walked himself towards the alter at the centre of the temple. He ascended a few short stairs to stand on a raised platform where Keith and representatives from both sides stood waiting. He was somewhat relieved to find that he was the same height as Keith.

“Hello,” Keith whispered, low enough that only Lance could hear. From this close up, his eyes were a deep indigo.

“Hello,” Lance whispered back.

The royal advisor, a man named Coran, stepped in beside Lance. He had been with Lance all his life, and Lance trusted no one else to be his representative. “Don’t be nervous, Prince,” Coran said, putting a comforting hand briefly on Lance’s elbow. 

Coran’s confidence in him eased Lance’s anxious heart. He gave Keith a small smile, and was relieved when Keith returned the gesture with a barely-there nod. It seemed like he wasn’t the only one feeling nervous. 

As the ceremony was about to begin, something prickled at the back of Lance’s neck. His gaze jerked out towards the gardens, which could be seen through the wide stone archways caved into every wall of the temple. His eyes didn’t immediately spot anything, but his people knew that his senses were keen, and the tension in the room shifted.

“What is it?” Keith asked, catching on quickly.

“I…” Lance trailed off as a cry sounded. A sudden burst of flames shot through the open archways, hot enough that Lance could feel its heat even as far away as he was.

A collective scream rose up from the guests. None of the water people had brought weapons, or were even permitted to fight within the temple. It went against everything they believed in. Even with so much water at their fingertips, in the creeks around the temple, in the manmade streams running parallel to the aisle and through the archways, they would not use it. They couldn’t.

And for that, they were going to be slaughtered.

“Run!” Lance shouted, throwing his arm out towards the opposite wall of archways, away from the fire. “Leave the temple!”

“Prince Lance!” 

The shout came from Keith. Lance felt arms go around his waist, pulling him against an armoured chest as a wave of heat washed over them. He hissed as fire licked at his skin, but as quickly as it came, it was gone.

Keith had Lance pinned to him with one arm, and the other thrown out towards the attackers. Bolts of flame speared out from Keith’s palm. 

Just because the water people were forbidden from causing conflict didn’t mean the fire soldiers were. But to turn against their own, even against a rebel faction set on disrupting the wedding… Lance was shocked. There must have been only a fraction of a second for Keith to make his decision, and he hadn’t hesitated before putting himself in harm’s way to shield Lance.

Lance would be sure never to forget it.

“Apprehend them,” Keith shouted, as the guards he’d brought along rushed outside. Several had created walls of fire to protect the water people, who were rushing to escape through the other side of the temple. “They will be charged with treason!”

“Yes, sir!” came the quick reply.

Keith’s eyes swung down towards Lance. Even after bearing the brunt of a flame, he looked completely untouched. “Are you alright, Prince Lance?” he asked.

For a moment, Lance didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t the one who’d been put in the direct line of fire. “I’m alright,” he eventually answered. 

Keith made no move to release Lance as he guided him down off the platform. “Seems as though we might have to postpone the wedding,” he said.

“After that act of bravery, I feel as good as married,” Lance said, his voice serious. Unity was always shown through actions, and Keith had more than proven his dedication to their arrangement. Lance knew what it meant for him to turn against his people, rebels or otherwise. Keith had as good as sealed his allegiance to the water people, to Lance.

Keith flashed him a small smile.

“Come,” Lance said, as he shook free of Keith’s grip to instead reverse it, slipping his arm around Keith’s lower back, “we must go this way. My guard will be waiting just outside the temple.”

Keith nodded, and together they made their way through the crowd. Lance trusted Keith’s soldiers to protect the temple, and knew his first priority had to be protecting his betrothed. They would unite their people. He had no doubt in that now.


	69. Keith/Lance - Favoured

Most people thought that Lance was more into Keith than Keith was into him based solely on the fact that Lance was very physically affectionate. Keith could understand that, to some degree. It was hard to ignore how physical Lance was with him.

Lance had a habit of draping himself over Keith any chance he got. He was still a few inches taller than Keith, and liked to make a show of pointing it out. To be honest, Keith didn’t really mind, but he complained just so Lance would do it more often to tease him. Even if he wasn’t a naturally affectionate guy, he still liked it when Lance was handsy. He liked it when Lance pawed at his hands until they interlocked their fingers, and he liked it when Lance linked their elbows while they were walking, and he liked it when Lance threw his arm around Keith’s shoulders to play with the small hairs at the back of his neck.

He liked having Lance touch him.

But he just wasn’t the type of person to do the same, at least in public anyway. He’d grown used to Lance showing him affection around others, but still shied away from reciprocating the warm gestures. In the privacy of their home, that was a different matter, but in public he tended to refrain from being hands-on. He could see why most people assumed Lance was the clingy one, or at least thought he was cold.

He didn’t think that way, though.

Mostly because he was always thinking about Lance.

It was probably a little unhealthy. He often caught himself staring at Lance, but catching himself thinking about his boyfriend was monumentally harder to do, since he did it so often. There was hardly anything he didn’t like about Lance, but there were some particular quirks that he favoured. 

For instance, he loved it when Lance wore a sweater slightly too big for him. He was quite a lanky guy, and his long limbs suited the tight fitting pants and shirts he liked to wear. Seeing him in something soft and cosy was a delight. When he wore a large sweater, the hem of his sleeves would often cover all the way up to his knuckles. Not only did it make his hands look cute, it made all of him look cute.

Keith also liked it when Lance was feeling particularly lazy, and would slouch down in his seat like it was a beanbag made of quicksand. He’d always get a really petulant look on his face, even if he wasn’t in a bad mood. Keith also knew that slumping in that position gave Lance little belly rolls, and as much as Lance hated them, Keith thought they were as good a place as any to rest his head when he wanted to lie down.

There was also the fact that Keith was always thinking about Lance that added to his theory that he was thoroughly enamoured with Lance. Sometimes he saw things that reminded him of his boyfriend, like how the sky was the same colour as his eyes, or how grey-coloured cats reminded him of Lance’s beloved pet. When he walked past a drink store or a food place they’d been to before, he always remembered what Lance’s favourite order was. If anyone heard his thoughts, they’d only hear a constant parade of Lance-related things. 

That’s why he knew he was just as charmed by Lance as Lance was with him, if not more. 

If nothing else, Keith liked knowing he thought of Lance. It was a secret pleasure.


	70. Keith/Lance - Pizza

Lance was used to getting home first. His job finished thirty minutes before Keith’s, and was a little bit closer, so he generally made it home before his boyfriend did. He normally used that time to wind down after a long day, or to get a head start on cooking dinner. Something productive, or something relaxing.

That evening, however, Lance was the second one home. He’d had to stay back for a little while to get his last task done, which hadn’t really left him in the best mood. Not to mention that traffic on the way home was horrendous. There’d been an accident on the highway which meant he’d had to take the long way home or risk getting stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic. 

Getting home was a relief. He’d warned Keith he’d be late, so he was glad to see the front light on, which meant his boyfriend was definitely home. 

When he opened the front door, the smell of pizza reached him. He dropped his bag to the floor, kicked off his shoes, and let his nose guide him to the lounge room. A stack of pizza boxes were balancing on the edge of the coffee table beside a bottle of soft drink and a foil-wrapped loaf of garlic bread. His stomach gave a pitiful lurch at the smell. He was almost salivating.

“Lance? I thought I heard you come in,” Keith said, appearing in the doorway. He glanced at the food and gave Lance a sheepish shrug. “I can’t cook.”

Despite how tired he was, Lance couldn’t help but grin. “God, I love you.”

Keith’s eyebrows when up at the exclamation, and a little smile curled at the corner of his lips. “I thought you might be hungry by the time you got home.”

“You definitely thought right, babe. Honestly thank you so much.”

“It’s nothing.” Keith came over to hook an arm around Lance’s shoulders, bringing him close to press a warm kiss to his temple. “Go wash your hands and then we can eat.”

“Shall do.” He’d have a shower after he’d eaten, but for now he changed out of his uniform shirt (he didn’t want to get pizza stains on it), washed his hands, and then returned to the lounge room to eat. Keith had spread open the boxes and poured them both a drink. 

There was no better way to cheer him up.


	71. Keith/Lance - Bitterness

A lot of hospitals employed omegas specifically to use their scents. It was a well-known biological fact that an omega with a particularly pleasing scent would induce calming behaviours in others. It had something to do with instincts that had never truly left, despite the rise of civilised society. It was a phenomenon considered along the same vein as people being able to scent particularly compatible partners.

Lance just happened to be one of the omega nurses employed at a local hospital. His scent seemed especially calming to children no matter their secondary gender, so he often worked with young kids. If they were scared of needles, he’d sit on their bed with them and read them a story. Other times he worked in the recreation room where the kids were allowed to play with toys and puzzles. 

On a rare occasion, he’d be sent to calm down an alpha. Pain medication often reacted with them badly, and made them irrational or combative. Having a soothing omega scent nearby tended to ease their aggravation.

That day, however, when he went in for his usual shift, he smelt something off. The children’s ward was beside the omega’s ward, but he usually wasn’t needed in there. Most omegas could be settled by the scents of their family or mate, or something familiar to them, like a sweater or a blanket carrying their smell. 

But that morning, when he wandered past the omega ward, his nose picked up a distressed scent. It was definitely an omega’s scent, because there was no mistaking its inherent sweetness, despite its spicy undertones and the thick bitterness of distress. He’d smelt frightened omegas before, but there was just something different about this. Something that called to him.

Before he knew it, he was letting out little whines, and his supervisor was looking at him strangely. She could clearly sense the change in Lance’s own scent, the way it billowed out of him in intense, pacifying waves. Most of the medical nurses at the hospital were trained to use an omega’s scent to its fullest possibility, so his supervisor escorted him into the omega’s ward, though he really led the way. 

He found the source of the scent a few doors down into the heart of the ward. There was an omega on the bed inside being held down by an alpha in casual clothes. A nurse was fighting with him to try and insert an IV, but the omega was thrashing, his expression pinched. Lance wasn’t sure if he was dazed by medication or if he had dropped into a panicked mindset and was just fighting everyone, but neither options were good.

Something about the omega called to him. Lance approached the bed and after waiting for the alpha to nod his permission, reached out to put his hand on the omega’s arm. It was always harder to ease a fellow omega since their scents tended to compete, but Lance was persistent. He’d been utilising his scent for his job for a while now and he’d gotten good at blanketing it. 

Soon enough, the omega’s nose twitched, and his glazed eyes fluttered open. For a moment they spun around the room, unhinged, but then he caught sight of Lance and let out a pained wheeze.

Lance gave him a rumbling coo in return, squeezing the omega’s arm gently. He couldn’t take his eyes off the omega in front of him. If Lance hadn’t known better, he would’ve thought he was actually an alpha – he had the stereotypical angular face of a masculine alpha, and an uncharacteristically stern expression. Lance was sure he’d never seen such a handsome person before.

With the omega calmed down and fixated on Lance, the nurse was able to slip the IV in and hook it up to a drip. 

“Thanks, Lance,” the nurse said, giving him a relieved, slightly sweaty look. “He’s stronger than he looks.”

He flashed her a small smile.

“Lance?” the omega croaked.

“That’s me,” Lance said, turning his eyes back to the omega beside him. “Feeling better?”

The omega let out a whine, his fingers scrabbling at Lance’s arm. His grip was weak. 

Lance made another comforting noise. He wouldn’t leave the omega until the bitterness in his scent had faded, however long that took. Even thinking about leaving the omega at all made his stomach clench. 

“Thank you for helping him,” the alpha in casual clothes said, giving Lance an earnest look. “He doesn’t often experience omega instincts, so when he does, he spirals quickly. It’s hard to hold him down.”

“It’s alright, it’s what I’m here for,” Lance said.

“It’s strange though,” the alpha said, more to himself than to Lance. “Keith has never responded to other omegas well when he’s like this. I mean, we’ve tried scent therapy, but it never worked for him. He rarely gets sick in the first place.”

Lance’s heart fluttered. Some part of him was deeply pleased with knowing that he was capable of calming Keith down. He’d never felt so entranced by someone before. Normally omegas didn’t like another omega’s distressed scent, but he’d been immediately drawn to Keith, and it wasn’t in the same way he was drawn to comforting children. 

There was just something special about Keith, about the way he sparked Lance’s instincts. Something unique to him. 

Lance would stay with him until he got better.


	72. Lance/Shiro - Thunder

Getting stuck in a thunder storm was not how Lance intended to spend his afternoon. The entire group – Keith, Hunk, Pidge, Allura, Shiro, and himself – were travelling together for the first time in more than a year, just like they used to before work got too busy. Finding time off that was convenient for everyone with both work and heat cycles involved was difficult, but they’d managed, and were planning to head down to the coast where they’d rented a cabin by the beach.

It was a long trip, so they were stopping at an old house Allura’s father had bought to renovate. According to Allura, the place wasn’t ready for habitation, so it was only meant to be a quick stop. The plan had been to have lunch, stretch their legs, and then move on. Turns out the weather had other plans in store.

The storm hit unexpectedly. One minute the sky was as blue as could be, and then next it was bruised with greys and blacks, dark enough that even someone like Lance who loved storms was a little intimidated. Storms that came on that quickly were always violent, and this one proved true to form. It was definitely not safe to drive in.

That led them to where they were now. The storm wasn’t going to let up until the next morning, so they were staying overnight. The driest room in the decaying house – that is, the one with the least leaks – was the old parlour, so everyone had piled in as many blankets and cushions as they could scrounge up to make temporary beds. They were spread out on the floor in the most comfortable position they could find, but it wasn’t a simple task. Being too close to the windows meant risking a rather annoying draft, and being too close to the doorway meant bearing the insistent dripping of water in the hallway.

Lance had found himself a spot in front of a dusty couch that was so old no one had bothered to claim it to sleep on, not even him. As one of only two omegas in the room, he’d been given a few extra blankets to keep him comfortable. Omegas were known for being furious nesters, and Lance was no different. He needed the comfort of soft things around him to sleep in the same way some people needed white noise or music.

For the most part, he had no trouble sleeping with such a strong storm raging outside. Being in an unfamiliar place that smelt like dust and dirt wasn’t great, but the scents of his friends were helping. Their group was pretty even in terms of dynamics, with two of every secondary gender dynamic present. It made for a nice mix, he thought. 

Still, not long after he’d drifted off, something woke him. At first he thought it was a violent crack of thunder, but after letting his thoughts tumble about aimlessly for a moment, he decided it wasn’t. When he took a cautious sniff of the air, he smelt something he didn’t often smell – the scent of distress. Or, more accurately, Shiro in distress.

Most people didn’t assume Shiro was an omega. If one believed in stereotypes, then Shiro had the body and strength of an alpha. Even his scent was more on the masculine side, registering far less sweet than the average omega. But reasonable people knew that people came in all shapes, sizes, and gender dynamics, and Shiro being an omega was nothing to be surprised over.

Stereotypes aside, it was still rare to see Shiro exhibiting very omega behaviours. He had better control over his scent than anyone Lance had ever met, and wasn’t as bothered by nesting instincts as Lance was. He still had nurturing instincts, but they came through more as leadership skills. Smelling distress on his scent was something Lance had never experienced before, and it immediately made his stomach twist. 

He pushed himself upright and squinted into the darkness of the room, impatiently waiting for his eyes to adjust. The house had no electricity so most of the night they’d been burning candles found in the kitchen drawer. They’d gone out at some point, so the only light to see by was pale moonlight. Shiro was across the room from him, stretched out by the hollow fireplace.

“Shiro?” he whispered.

A flash of white lightning outside briefly illuminated the room. Lance saw Shiro tense, every line in his shoulders and back stiffening, going rigid as another pulse of his scent reached Lance’s nose. When a clap of thunder soon followed, Shiro’s distressed scent thickened. Omegas were incredibly sensitive to the scents of other omegas so Lance was the only one who’d woken up so far, but it wouldn’t stay that way for long at this rate.

Lance kicked off his blankets and padded across the room, carefully stepping over Pidge’s sprawled limbs and over a snoring Hunk’s feet to reach Shiro. He was stiff all over when Lance reached him, but that didn’t deter Lance from crouching down beside him, letting out a small rumble. 

“I’m fine, Lance,” Shiro whispered, his voice sharp.

Lance wasn’t put off. When another snap of thunder came Shiro went all rigid again, squeezing his eyes shut, his jaw clenched. Lance put a hand on his arm, letting his scent convey comfort. “It’s okay, I get it,” Lance whispered back, and he did. He and Shiro had become closer in recent months, and Shiro had shared some of his troubles – like how he still had nightmares about his accident, and how sometimes loud noises, like thunder, made his heart race.

He also knew that Shiro was reluctant to accept comfort, thinking it made him weak. Shiro hadn’t actually told Lance that himself, but Lance knew anyway. And, in return, Shiro knew things about him, too. Like how he wouldn’t leave Shiro alone until he felt better, and how he wouldn’t judge Shiro for any fears he had, irrational or otherwise.

Silent, Lance nudged at Shiro’s back until he shifted over, making room for Lance beside him. Lance curled up against his back and let out a quiet purr, knowing the sound would reverberate through his chest to Shiro. He heard Shiro breathe in a lungful of his scent, and the tension began to slowly ease out of him. When another clap of thunder struck, he didn’t tense up as much.

Lance liked resting beside Shiro. Not only was his scent pleasing, but the warmth of his body was welcoming, and Lance liked feeling his breaths going in and out. It was almost hypnotic.

After a while, Lance’s mind began to drift. He was on the verge of sleep when he felt Shiro shift, twisting around so that he was facing Lance. He carefully put one arm around Lance’s waist and then waited a moment before pressing his nose to Lance’s hair. Did he think Lance was asleep? 

Well, Lance wasn’t going to disrupt that. Instead he took advantage of it, nuzzling against Shiro’s cheek in the same way he nuzzled his pillows. He smelt a faint tinge of embarrassment on Shiro’s scent that made him smile. As much as Shiro liked to be strong and composed, even he wanted a little comfort every now and then.

And for some reason, accepting that from Lance was something Shiro could do. Lance had never seen him be affectionate with anyone else and that pleased a secret little part of him. Getting to know Shiro had just made him like him even more.

Shiro let out a deep sigh as his arm went heavy. Despite the storm still raging outside, he’d fallen asleep. Lance continued purring anyway, without even trying. Just being this close to Shiro made him happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I binge watched season eight tonight and now I am lost aha :') feel free to share your opinions!


	73. Keith/Lance - Chains

Lance tugged at the chains binding his wrists, but his arms were so weak that the chains did little but rattle. On his knees, with his arms pulled in opposite directions by the chains, he was so weak that he could barely lift his head.

It had been days since his capture. The Galra had him stowed away in the bowels of one of their ships. They’d stripped him of his armour and his helmet, leaving him in nothing but his black under-suit. He’d been given water but that was it. His stomach had stopped growling for food a day ago. Now every part of him ached, not just his stomach.

He knew his teammates would come for him, but waiting for them was proving to be harder than he thought. He couldn’t stand the emptiness of his cell, where all he could see were purple shadows and all he could hear were the rumbles and clatters of a ship on the move. Not only was he chained down and in pain, but he was trapped with nothing but his thoughts, and it was driving him mad. It wasn’t even living Galra that came to give him water – they were sentry bots.

The mission hadn’t meant to end like this. The team had split into three groups and it just so happened that Lance was the one to go alone. Galra soldiers had overwhelmed him with their numbers and knocked him out before he could raise the alarm. He knew the other Paladins would know he was gone, but finding him would be a challenge. He didn’t even know where he was.

His mind kept straying back to Keith. They’d become… closer, in the recent months. Much closer than anyone thought. More often than not, they spent the night in one of their rooms, sharing a bed. They sparred together when one needed to work out their energy. They huddled on the observation deck when one had no energy left.

He’d gotten to know Keith better as a result. He knew what made Keith happy, what set him off. Keith liked to hide how he was feeling, but there were other ways of figuring out. If one watched him carefully enough, then it was easy to read him. Like how he clenched his fists when he was irritated, or the way he folded his arms when he was tense. He could be figured out if someone took the time to.

And Lance had taken a long of time to do just that.

In return, Keith had come to know Lance, too. He’d become a lot more… protective of Lance, since they’d gotten together, if it could be called that. He was moody when Lance was injured, and when they were alone, he’d go over Lance’s wounds with a sort of intense care that made him think Keith was furious at the injuries. 

It wasn’t like Keith tried to stop Lance from doing anything. Their responsibility to Voltron would always come first as long as the war continued. But that didn’t mean Keith wasn’t protective. He burned with silent fury whenever Lance got hurt, and always treated Lance gently afterwards, like he was concerned that too much pressure would leave bruises.

Lance felt very delicate when he was in Keith’s hands. He liked feeling that way, like he was precious and treasured, like no matter how strong and brave he had to be on the battlefield, he never had to be that way with Keith. With Keith, he felt safe.

Maybe that was why he was so sure his team were coming for him. He believed in all of them, but his connection to Keith was deepening in ways he hadn’t thought possible. 

He just had to be patient.

 

Being held captive meant he didn’t sleep – he passed out. There was a distinct difference, he found. He had passed out at some point and woke up to loud noises and the smell of smoke. Groggy and weak, it took his mind several moments to catch up with what was going on around him.

The ship was under attack.

A spark of hope rippled through him. He couldn’t see far out of his cell, but the minute smoke began to billow down from the hallway, he knew he was close to being set free. He could hear explosions echoing from the floors above him, and heard the clanking of sentry bots running down the corridor, but the guards stationed at his cell had gone by the time he opened his eyes, and he was alone.

“Help!” he cried, voice croaky and hollow. “Who’s there?”

No one answered. Metallic clangs and grunts reached him, echoing down the corridor from somewhere beyond where he could see. His chains rattled as he yanked at them, trying to get his legs to work beneath him. The ached so much he could hardly move.

“Lance!” a familiar shouted.

His heart gave a painful stutter. “Keith, I’m in here!” 

A familiar red suit appeared on the outside of his cell. A scorch mark was burned into Keith’s shoulder but Lance knew the armour would have protected him from the worst of it. Other than that, he seemed unharmed.

In one swift movement, Keith sliced apart the bars of Lance’s cell with his bayard. Lance pulled on his chains again as Keith rushed towards him, dropping to a crouch to put a palm against Lance’s cheek. Lance leaned into the gesture as much as he could, but pulling on the chains too much made very muscle in his shoulders and back ache. 

“I’m going to get you out of here, don’t worry,” Keith promised. He stood, and with an aggressive swing of his arm, he cut through the chains on Lance’s right wrist, then his left. Lance pitched forwards, crying out in pain as his arms finally shifted positions. Keith caught him before he hit the ground and carefully rearranged Lance, ignoring Lance’s winces.

“I knew you’d come,” Lance whispered. He felt like every part of him was trembling. He might’ve been. His joints were cracking as he tried to make himself comfortable, drawing his arms closer to his chest and stretching his legs out. Everything hurt.

“Of course,” Keith whispered back.

Suddenly, a shadow fell over them. Keith jerked Lance closer as he whipped around, his dagger drawn in the blink of an eye. With a shout, he threw it across the room, pinning an approaching sentry bot to the wall behind it through the head. 

Lance’s breath caught.

He’d never seen Keith move so fast.

“I’ve got him,” Keith said into his helmet, his attention briefly elsewhere. “Going back to Red now. I’ll need cover.” His fierce eyes slid down to Lance as he put his arms under him. “Just hold on, Lance.”

Worried that if he opened his mouth he’d let out a pained moan, Lance did nothing but nod. He kept himself still as Keith hauled him up, carrying his weight as if it were nothing. They retrieved Keith’s knife and then Keith was taking him out of his cell, the last few inches of his chains hanging from the shackles around his wrists. 

“Is everyone else alright?” 

“They are,” Keith said, “but you’re more important right now, so save your strength, okay?”

Lance swallowed, his dry throat aching, but nodded. His vision was beginning to swim – days without food were quickly catching up on him, and suddenly being able to move around was making him dizzy. His head lolled back over the edge of Keith’s arm, but Keith quickly jostled him, lifting him higher so that his head was resting against Keith’s shoulder.

“I can’t keep my eyes open, Keith,” he croaked.

“It’s okay,” Keith said. His steps never once faltered. “I’ve got you.”


	74. Lance/Shiro - Paladin

Lance ducked down in his seat, pulling his bandana over his triangular cat ears. The tavern was full of rowdy travellers and drunk locals, neither of whom Lance wanted seeing him. His kind weren’t normally welcome in places where the human population was so thick. 

Truthfully, he didn’t exactly want to be here. There were hundreds of other things he could’ve been doing. Stealing gold pieces from the man two tables down, for example. It would be so easy, what with the way the man was swaying, his attention solely on the amount of ale in his cup. 

But the man Lance was asking for help had said to meet him at the tavern. He was a human, but a Paladin, and that was exactly what Lance needed. Paladins were renowned for their strength and the way they upheld justice to every extent. Lance was going to need that sort of attitude on his side if he was going to get himself out of his current situation, which he very much wanted to do. A reliable friend had assured him that this Paladin was exactly who Lance needed. 

Still he hadn’t expected to be the first one to arrive at the tavern. He was hoping to be in and out, but it wasn’t looking like that was going to happen now. There was no way he was going to drink human-made alcohol, so he didn’t even have a drink to hide behind.

It got to the point where he was about to get up and leave when he finally saw the tell-tale armour of a Paladin. The man who walked in was not what Lance expected. In some ways, he was – he was tall and handsome, and had a righteous air to him. But he had a serious look on his face, and a prominent scar over his nose that surprised Lance. He’d always thought Paladins were untouchable, but this one carried wounds that had left permanent marks on him.

The Paladin spotted him from across the tavern and made his way over. His amour was well polished, and he walked with his shoulders straight. To a lot of people he might have looked pompous, but to Lance he looked like a Knight from a fairy tale. That probably had something to do with why he was willing to ask a Paladin for help.

The Paladin slid into the seat across from him. “You’re Lance, right?”

Lance nodded. He’d hidden his cat ears as best as he could, but hiding the markings on his face had proven to be harder. Anyone looking for him would know he was a rogue. “Shirogane?”

“Just Shiro is fine.”

Lance gave him a nervous, cattish smile. “Shiro, then.”

“I’ve heard you need help,” Shiro said. His eyes were a warm brown from this close up, like the colour of melted chocolate. “Can you tell me what the situation is?”

Lance felt his ears automatically twitch, fighting against the bandana to flatten against his skull. “Well, I’m not going to deny that I have… roughish tendencies,” he began.

Shiro gave him a deadpan look. “Meaning you thieve and steal from others?”

“Only from those that deserve it!” Lance protested, frowning. “Usually. It’s hard for people like me to turn away from pretty things, you know.” And it was. His species were drawn to riches like magpies were drawn to shiny things. Lance had to steal and fight to survive, but he did try to only steal from the rich and cruel, the people who used slaves as forced labour and who decked themselves out in jewels but wouldn’t pay their workers a fair wage. 

“So you’ve stolen something important?”

Lance winced. “Not exactly. If we’re being honest, I haven’t stolen anything substantial in a while. I’ve been doing quests,” he said, digging in his bag for his sealed quest papers, the ones that proved he’d been working for his money. “But people always accuse rogues of stealing stuff. I mean, we’re usually the ones stealing, but not this time. I didn’t do it.”

He was being accused of stealing an important diadem, but he honestly hadn’t taken it. He couldn’t say he wouldn’t have if he’d had the chance, since the diadem was worth a lot and also very shiny, but this time he was telling the truth. 

Only a Paladin would have the motivation to seek out the truth on his behalf. That’s why he needed Shiro’s help, since Paladins valued justice and fairness above all else.

Shiro met his eyes across the table. He simply stared, making Lance feel small. After a moment, he nodded. “Alright, I believe you.”

Relief crashed over Lance. “You do?”

“I do. And I promise to help.” He held out a hand. “It’s good to meet you, Lance.”


	75. Keith/Lance - Honeycomb

For as long as Lance could remember, he’d been locked inside a room. To be fair, he couldn’t remember his life before he woke up, and only a few seasons had passed since then. All of his memories were gone, locked away in a place that he did not have a key to. For him, it had always been that way, and he feared it always would be.

He tended to live in a daze, most days. His room was large and spacious with a line of wide windows on one side. A bed with a high, gauzy canopy sat flush with the east wall, with a dresser, a desk, and a full bookcase on the opposite side. There was a soft rug and a fireplace for him to warm himself with during the cold months, and an adjacent bathroom for cool baths in the summer. He’d moved a chair by the window so that he could stare out at the garden whenever he wanted. If he became bored of that, he could read, or play with his magic. He often rearranged the room with waves of his hands.

The only company he got was through his locked door. There was a gate in the bottom large enough to slide food through, which happened three times a day, four if sweet fruits were in season. The person who brought them to him always stopped to ask him how he was, and if he needed anything. Lance had never thought to ask about where he was, or why he was locked away, but lately those thoughts had started coming to him more frequently.

He never saw anything in the gardens, never saw anyone passing through or wandering between the rows of hedges and the billowing willow trees. He couldn’t see beyond the gardens, and the angle of his windows didn’t let him see beyond the house he was in, either. He was all alone in his little world, except for that door, and the voice beyond it.

And only recently had he started wandering why that was.

It had been a day or two since the voice had last come by. Food had been brought by silent hands, and he found himself reluctant to eat it, knowing it wasn’t brought to him by the person he had become fond of. 

When he grew tired both of the silence behind the door and the loudness of the questions in his mind, he decided to do something about it. He waited by the door when he knew breakfast would be arriving, wringing his hands in the hem of his soft sleep shirt. When the little gate opened and an ornate bowl full of sliced fruit was slid through, he spoke.

“What happened to the other voice?”

There was a small pause as the gate slid shut. “I’m here,” he said.

Lance’s eyes widened with surprise. “You’re back.”

“You noticed I was gone?”

“Yes.” Lance bent to pick up his bowl. It was full of his favourite fruits. Somehow, it was always his favourite, as if the man on the other side of the door knew what Lance liked. “Where did you go?”

There was another pause. “Nowhere important.”

Feeling strange talking to a door, Lance drifted away, his attention waning. He had his breakfast, and spring had recently arrived in the gardens, so there were plenty of flowers to look down on. For now, he was relieved that the voice had returned. Food from him always tasted the best. 

Perhaps he’d feel like asking more questions tomorrow. 

 

As it turned out, he did. All evening there had been a nagging voice in the back of his mind, one that wanted to talk freely, without the barrier of a door. Lance was anxiously awaiting his breakfast after a night of rest proved to be not enough to quell his curiosity. When the gate at the bottom of the door was next open, he pounced.

“What is your name?”

“Keith,” came the surprised voice. 

“Keith,” Lance repeated, testing the word on his tongue. He quite liked it. “Where is… well, here? Keith?”

It took the voice a distractingly long moment to answer. “This is a safe house,” he explained, “in the countryside. It’s a refurbished manor.”

Lance hummed. Today’s breakfast was oatmeal drizzled with golden syrup and chunks of dripping honeycomb. Something about it completely delighted him, so much so that his magic spread out in the room, making his light curtains flutter and the canopy above his bed shift. “Why am I here?”

“At the manor?”

“No, in this room,” Lance said, as he picked up his bowl. He glanced at the doorknob but didn’t reach out to touch it. 

“It’s to keep you safe.” Keith’s voice was barely above a whisper.

Lance again found his attention wavering, as if he couldn’t focus on the conversation long enough to ask for clear answers. He would’ve thought it was infuriating if he could’ve gotten his mind to think about it for long enough.

 

Breakfast the next day once more found him more anxious than ever. Even before food had arrived, he’d found himself pulling at the doorknob, trying to get it to twist even though he knew it was locked. What was beyond the door? Who was Keith to him? Why did he feel like he knew Keith, and that Keith knew him?

When the gate opened, he had his chance to ask.

“Why am I locked away?”

“To keep you safe,” Keith answered again. He slid a plate of sugared, toasted bread topped with fruit slices through the door but Lance immediately pushed it back out. He wanted answers more than he wanted food.

“But safe from what?” he pleaded.

Keith remained silent.

“Please,” Lance said, pressing his palms to the door. “Why can’t I remember anything? Why can’t I focus on thinking about this?”

“You… you were injured,” Keith admitted, hesitant. “Your magic went out of control.”

Lance’s stomach plummeted. “Is that why I lost my memory?”

“Yes.” Keith pulled in a breath, and spoke fast, as if he were afraid Lance were going to drift away again. “You were badly injured, and anytime you saw something that triggered a memory, it caused you great pain. I couldn’t bear to see you hurt so we had to give you a space where your mind could heal without interruption.”

Lance let the words sink in. He rested his forehead against the door. He didn’t feel injured, but he supposed the wound was in his mind, in his missing memory, so he wouldn’t see a physical mark. “Am I going to get my memories back?”

“Yes, eventually. Lance, this is a good sign, I promise. You’re starting to perk up more. Soon you won’t have to be locked away like this, I swear it.”

Lance could hear the pain in Keith’s voice. Something had really frightened him, and Lance thought that maybe it was him getting injured that had done that. “What am I to you?” he asked.

There was a quiet noise that Lance took to be Keith resting against the other side of the door. It was a moment before he answered. “Everything.”


	76. Keith/Lance - Parted

Keith ran his fingers over the ground before him, tracing the shape of the paw print with light fingertips. The forest was still damp with a cold, thick fog, so the tracks hadn’t yet faded. Had it been any warmer, the soil would have sprung back into shape within the hour. He wondered if the heavier load that the wolf was carrying had affected the deepness of the tracks or not, and if that possibly gave him more time to catch up.

Standing, he rested one hand on his dagger to stop it from jostling in its broken holster before continuing on. The forest was becoming thicker the further he waded into it, and soon, slipping between the trees became challenging. 

But this was necessary. These woods were known for being difficult to traverse, especially for non-magic humans. Keith had no doubt that the wolf would be able to travel through it without incident, but the hunters and the poachers after magic wielders like them would have little success when the trees become dense. Getting a start ahead of them had been crucial, which is why the wolf had gone first. 

Impatient minutes passed as Keith went further and further into the woods. The foliage on the ground made it harder to follow the tracks but Keith managed. Eventually he came upon a river, only a few feet wide and already mostly frozen over for the winter. He used rocks to cross it and entered the clearing beyond, where a small but modest cabin stood hidden between thickets of trees. If he hadn’t known it was there, he never would have found it. 

A growl resounded through the quiet forest. Here the trees were so dense that not even birds dared break the heavy silence.

“Cosmo,” he called, pausing by the entrance to the clearing as his eyes scanned for the wolf. He saw it guarding the front stairs of the house, its head ducked low. All things considered, seeing his animal companion was a welcome sight.

The wolf eased up its guard, its tongue lolling as Keith approached. He passed his hand over Cosmo’s head, rubbing behind his ears. 

“How is he?” he whispered. Unable to remain outside any longer, he went inside, waiting for Cosmo to join him before locking the door behind them. 

He found the object of his concerns by the hearth, where a weak fire was struggling to catch alight. He focused his gaze on it, and as his eyes flashed orange, a blaze roared to life. It flooded the room with heat and made the boy on the floor sigh.

“Lance,” Keith murmured, crouching down beside him. Lance was curled up on the rug, his face pale and drawn. Keith lifted Lance’s head into his lap and brushed sweat-sticky hair from his forehead. “How are you feeling?”

“Cold,” Lance croaked. 

Keith let warmth build up in his hands before pressing his palms to Lance’s cheeks, watching him shudder as the warmth seeped into him. Travelling on Cosmo’s back without a windbreaker jacket in this weather couldn’t have been easy on him, especially not with his injury. When Keith reached down to peel back the open side of Lance’s tunic, he couldn’t help but wince. The bandages haphazardly wrapped around Lance’s upper waist were already stained with fresh red.

“Did you get away alright?”

“I did,” Keith answered, returning his hand to Lance’s face. The hunters had been easy to lose once he hit the forest. They’d remain at this cabin until the entire situation blew over. Eventually hunters from the magic side of humanity would come to deal with their non-magic counterparts. Tension between the two was always on the rise, and it had finally reached them. Their friends had helped him get Lance out, but he’d been injured in the process. 

And the only reason he was hurt was because he jumped in the way of a blade meant for Keith. It was so reckless but exactly the kind of thing Lance would do, and Keith would be both forever grateful and horrified that his lover would go to such lengths for him. It wasn’t a life-threatening injury, but to Keith it might have well been. 

“Can we really stay here?” Lance asked, but his voice was waning, and his eyes were slowly drooping. He hardly reacted when Cosmo pressed his nose against Lance’s leg before laying at his feet. 

“We can,” Keith promised. This was one of Shiro’s old safe houses, one of the only ones no one else had ever found, magical or otherwise. He’d told Keith of its location when he and Lance had become the target of vicious hunters. As much as Keith wanted to stay and fight, he knew he had to prioritise Lance’s safety, especially after he was injured. This was the best outcome he could have hoped for considering the situation they were in. 

Lance’s eyes drifted shut. There was enough movement behind his eyelids for Keith to know he wasn’t properly asleep, not quite yet. He looked thoroughly exhausted and only rest and recuperation would fix that. They’d stay at the safe house until Lance’s injury healed. Hopefully Allura would be able to bring them medicine within the next day or so. Her healing abilities would fix Lance’s wound within hours.

After a while, Lance’s breathing finally evened out, and he went slack in Keith’s lap. Keith bent to press a kiss to his forehead, letting himself linger for a moment. He’d only been parted with Lance for half a day and already it felt like a lifetime. Every day he wondered how he could feel more attached to a single person, but looking at Lance, so trusting and weak in his lap, he understood.

He’d never let anything happen to Lance, not again. He meant far too much to Keith. It didn’t matter who stood in his way, if they had magic or not.

He would always protect Lance with every breath he had.


	77. Keith/Lance - Melted

Lance had a problem. He’d never tried to get too personal with the love lives of his siblings, because that was their business and he didn’t need to know what they did behind closed doors. He adored his brother Luis’s wife, Lisa, and their two lovely kids. And he’d liked the partners his other siblings had had over the years, except for that one idiot Rachel dated, whom none of them had liked, not even Rachel.

But this. This was practically criminal.

“Don’t you think it’s weird?” Lance demanded, as he squeezed vindictively at Keith’s waist, his cheek crushed against Keith’s collarbones. 

Keith shrugged at him. He was more interested in relaxing than he was with spying, something he’d already told Lance twice in the last ten minutes. 

Lance huffed. They were at a picnic with all of their friends and a lot of family, too. Lance’s sisters were around, Allura’s eccentric uncle and her father had come, Shiro had brought along his husband Curtis, the entire Holt family had showed up with Hunk’s mother and aunts – even Keith’s distant cousin Acxa and two of her friends had come.

They were out celebrating some achievement or another for one of the Holt siblings. Sometimes it was hard to keep up with their inventions considering how intelligent they were, and how quickly they worked. Almost everyone who arrived used the occasion as an opportunity to catch up. They had gathered at a local park for lunch and the day was a perfect day for relaxing. 

But it seemed like his sister was doing more than just relaxing. Veronica had set her eyes on her latest target and seemed completely intent on catching their attention, and of course who was it other than Acxa, Veronica’s little brother’s boyfriend’s estranged cousin? And okay, that was a long line of connections to make, Lance could admit that. 

“It’s still weird,” he muttered, watching Veronica hover around a clueless Acxa the same way a butterfly flitted around a flower.

“Acxa is too focus-minded to notice,” Keith said, briefly waving the hand he had nestled over Lance’s ribs. They were laid down on a blanket beneath a tree together, Lance tucked under one of Keith’s arms. “Veronica would have to slap her in the face to get her to notice.”

Lance snorted. “You don’t know how persistent Veronica can be.” As the younger sibling, Lance had always been privy to Veronica’s more devious side. When he was young and gullible she used to convince him of the most extraordinary things, no matter how far-fetched they seemed. One time she had him utterly convinced that the frogs they sometimes saw in their garden would eat his toes at night if they poked out beneath his blanket. He sweltered all through summer because of her.

“Would it really be so bad if they actually got together?” Keith asked. “You know Acxa has been by herself since Zethrid and Ezor paired up. She acts like she’s fine but you know she’s lonely.” 

“How dare you, playing on my emotions like that,” Lance scowled, but there was no heat in his words. He supposed that Veronica had been a bit restless lately, too. He wasn’t sure what she saw in Acxa that was so intriguing, but that wasn’t his choice to make anyway. 

Sighing, he returned his gaze to his sister. Acxa was sitting by herself, but Veronica was with her, leaning in close with a grin on her face. She looked like she was trying to bait Acxa into conversation, but even if Acxa was easy enough to get along with, she was very hard to talk to. A good listener, if nothing else, but very blunt and direct with her words. She didn’t often ask people questions so conversations with her were short, but Veronica hardly seemed to mind.

And, for the most part, it seemed like her efforts were actually working. Acxa wasn’t speaking much, but she appeared interested, and that alone was more than usual for her. Every time Veronica smiled or laughed, Acxa leaned in just a little bit closer. If Lance hadn’t been staring at them so intently he wouldn’t have noticed.

Letting out a small noise, Lance eased back down against Keith, thinking to himself. Maybe it would do Veronica some good to be close to Acxa, just like it would do Acxa good. Keep her out of trouble. Possibly get her into more trouble, actually, but that wasn’t Lance’s problem. 

“What are you thinking about now?” Keith asked, lifting his hand from Lance’s side to tug at a strand of Lance’s hair. 

“Nothing,” Lance said. “Just how much trouble Veronica would get into if Acxa was helping her.”

Keith’s hand stilled for a moment. “Oh no.”

Lance muffled a grin into Keith’s chest. “You’re the one that said its fine,” he teased, pushing himself upright a little more so that he was nose-to-nose with him. 

Keith let out a quiet huff of laughter. “I guess I did. But Veronica is more likely to target you than she is me.”

“Ah… that’s a good point.”

Keith grinned.

Unable to help himself, because his boyfriend really was quite handsome, Lance kissed that grin. Keith tasted a little bit like the soft drink he’d had before they’d laid down. He let out a breath through his nose that Lance could feel against his face. When he pulled away, Keith was giving him that gooey-eyed look he sometimes got when he was thinking sappy things, and it always made Lance beam. 

“Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if they got together, even if it meant they teamed up against us,” Keith whispered.

“Is that so?” Lance hummed, lifting his hands to cup Keith’s cheeks, tracing the shape of his jaw towards his ears and down to his chin.

“Mhmm.” Keith gave him a lazy smile. “Cause then they might have something like this, and that can’t be a bad thing.”

Lance all but melted. “You sap.”


	78. Lance/Lotor - Reform

In the grand scheme of things, Lance should have expected this to happen. He’d always been told that his overtly flirtatious nature would get him into trouble. Not everyone appreciated it, and some found him downright offensive, even when he was just trying to be fun. But that was just who he was, he told himself. Most people knew he was generally harmless, and the ones who took offense always figured that out sooner or later.

He supposed what it really came down to was that he never expected his stupid flirting to work. 

But, in the life of an eternal star such as himself, he supposed he would eventually come across someone who appreciated it. After all, there were countless stars in the universe. He was but one of many millions. 

He was staying with Allura in the Altea belt of stars when he first met Lotor, from the Daibazaal planetary ring. Allura’s castle was something out of legend. It was built on the dominant planet in the star belt, aptly called Altea, where vast fields of pink flowers and buildings built from white stone sat like perfect silhouettes against a blue-purple sky. 

Lance was visiting from his birth planet Earth, which housed a little cluster of stars named Cuba that he called home. He was one of five dignitaries coming from Earth, but the only one on Altea at the time, since he got along with the Alteans the best. He often taught classes to Altean children about Earthen culture, and as a dignitary, frequently sat in on meetings hosted by the Altean royal family.

He’d never met the representative from Daibazaal, but he knew of him from things Allura had said. The representative was the son of Emperor Zarkon, though it was rumoured that he didn’t approve of the way his father ran things. Prince Lotor deviated from the strict teachings of his father and had gathered quite a following from so-called ‘half-breeds’ (Lance didn’t agree with the term, despite its biological accuracy). For the most part, Lotor functioned as his own entity, conquering newly formed star belts in his own name, rather than his father’s. It was why he had his own seat at meetings, despite still being a representative of Daibazaal.

To put it simply, Lotor was known for being politically-ruthless and quite devious. 

Lance did not expect Lotor to take a liking to him.

As much as Lance knew he had gotten himself into deep water, he couldn’t exactly tell Lotor to go away. Even though they were both of the same rank, Lance still deferred to Lotor because Lotor was also a prince, and offending him would not be a good idea. Still, that didn’t stop his mouth from getting away from him sometimes.

“This planet is very beautiful, hmm?” Lotor asked, as he accompanied Lance around the royal gardens. It had been quite a polite offer, actually, so Lance hadn’t denied him.

“I like the flowers,” Lance confessed. “They’re juniberries.”

“Ah, yes… the Princess’s favourite.” There was a sour note in Lotor’s voice, though his easy-going expression never changed.

“You don’t like them?”

Lotor stopped by a row of juniberries and plucked one free from the garden bed. “I find them much more beautiful when placed beside your complexion,” he said, sliding the stem behind Lance’s ear with a delicate hand.

Lance flushed, having not expected the gesture. He’d always assumed Lotor had no interest in him, just like everyone else he flirted with. When he thought back to when they’d first been introduced the previous evening, he knew he had paid Lotor a compliment, but in all honestly, who wouldn’t? Lotor had all the charm of a prince from a storybook. It was like the stars had given their brightness to his eyes. 

“There are wonderful flowers on Daibazaal too,” Lotor said, as he drew his hand back to himself. He walked with them clasped behind his back, his shoulders set perfectly straight. Even step he made was purposeful and balanced, and Lance never had to rush to keep up despite their height difference. “More beautiful, I think.”

Lance snorted. “You’re biased.”

“Perhaps.” Lotor’s lips twitched. “But you’d have to see them to know what I mean.”

“I think there are flowers on Earth that could rival any in the universe,” Lance claimed.

“Oh? Perhaps you can show them to me.”

“Are you inviting yourself to my home?”

That little smile appeared again. “If you’ll have me.”

“You’re very forward.”

“Too forward?”

“I haven’t decided yet.” If Lance were being truthful, he actually liked Lotor’s attention. He was normally the one following others around, but anywhere he’d gone in the last day, Lotor had offered to accompany him. He would have thought Lotor were after something if he’d made any hint at wanting anything other than Lance’s company. 

“Have you made dinner plans for this evening?”

“No.” 

“Then might I join you, if you’re willing?”

Lance gave the man a squinty look. “You’re being awfully friendly, you know.” He couldn’t control his mouth, even though he knew he should’ve been more careful with his words.

Lotor gave him a loose shrug as he paused his walking again. The gesture seemed very out of character for him, considering how rigidly he normally held himself. For a moment, he cast his eyes out over the garden, giving the fountain they had stopped beside a considerate look. “Most people do not put up with me for this long,” he finally said. Though Lance could tell he had tried to mask it, Lotor hadn’t been able to take the sadness from his voice. It was only faint, like it was something that would have destroyed him when he was younger, but he had since become used to.

Lance knew how he felt. He was just the flirty one, after all. The one with the pointy chin and the loud mouth from Earth.

“Well, I supposed I can’t be rid of you just yet,” Lance stated. At Lotor’s perked brow, he grinned. “I haven’t convinced you that flowers from Earth are the best.”

“If I agree, then you will be rid of me? I supposed I shall have to be shown every single flower from Earth, then, because I hardly believe any could measure up to those from Daibazaal.”

Lance couldn’t help it, he laughed. 

“You have a wonderful laugh,” Lotor said, before a surprised look crossed his face, like he hadn’t planned to say that out loud.

“Most people say it’s annoying,” Lance said.

“Well I will endeavour to make you laugh more then, so that we might annoy everyone.”

Lance grinned. “I like the way you think.” He glanced around, and spotted a perfect juniberry flower. After pulling it free, he gestured at Lotor. “Come down here. You’re taller than a tree and I can’t reach.”

Only looking slightly puzzled, Lotor bent at the waist like he was bowing. Long strands of his silver hair slipped over the front of his shoulders like silk. For a moment Lance was worried the hair would be too fine to hold the flower in place, but when he slipped it behind Lotor’s ear, it remained steady.

“There,” he said, as Lotor straightened. “We match now.”

The flower was so pretty against Lotor’s lavender skin and silver hair that it should have been criminal. With the backdrop of Altea’s local stars spinning high above the sky behind him, he looked positively radiant. There was an open, honest expression on his face that warmed him to Lance, one he hadn’t shown around anyone else.

Perhaps Lotor was less devious and more lonely. After all, no one really socialised with him outside of their meetings. His reputation preceded him and not in an amicable way. But maybe the real problem was with how people viewed him. When Lance thought about it, what Lotor was trying to do was make a name for himself away from his father’s regime. Zarkon had many unfavourable policies, and Lotor was trying to reform them in his own way. Even if Lance didn’t understand the extent of his actions, he could still appreciate the drive Lotor was exhibiting.

He would reserve his judgements regarding Lotor’s political manoeuvring later, when he’d seen how the prince handled tough situations for himself.

“So?” Lotor prompted. “May I join you for dinner?”

Lance gave him a smile. “Of course.”


	79. Keith/Lance - Hail

Keith was in in the middle of driving when the first piece of hail came pinging down from the sky. The weather had been threatening to storm all afternoon, shifting between just on the edge of pouring and nothing but greyness. It seemed like the storm had finally come, and as the rain began to intensify, it began to hail.

He only had handful of moments to guide the car safely beneath a bridge. The sound of hail crashing into the metal of the car woke Lance, who had been asleep in the front passenger seat. He blinked out of his window in a sleepy daze. The road was empty aside from them so the car fit in the dry silhouette beneath the bridge without any issues.

“Is that hail?” Lance asked, surprised.

“Yeah.” Keith turned the ignition off and pulled the key free. The car was safe under the bridge. He could see the hail condensing on the ground like snowballs, each at least a couple of centimetres wide. Trying to drive would have only resulted in a smashed windshield and a dented car, and that was not an insurance claim he wanted to file. 

After letting out a yawn, Lance unbuckled his seatbelt, and leaned across the centre console as comfortably as he could to rest against Keith, who took a moment to free himself, too. They were driving to visit Lance’s family for Christmas, who only lived a couple of hours away. Keith had been hoping they would get there before the storm hit but that clearly wasn’t happening.

“You still okay with driving?” Lance asked him.

“Yeah, I’m still good.” Keith slipped his arm around Lance’s shoulders and looped it back so that he could run his fingers through Lance’s hair. He knew his boyfriend was exhausted after a long shift of work the previous day, so he’d offered to drive all the way to his parent’s house. He wasn’t tired but he supposed having a break to avoid the hail was beneficial. “You can go back to sleep if you want.”

“You’re the best, babe,” Lance said, his words stumbling over a yawn. He twisted around to face Keith a little more, his knees drawn up, and snuffled his nose into the crook of Keith’s neck. It was definitely adorable, Keith thought, though he wouldn’t say that out loud.

After a moment, Lance’s muscles all relaxed, and he slumped further into the curve of Keith’s side. His cheek was slumped against Keith’s shoulder, giving him a ridiculous expression that Keith really had no choice but to love. He considered taking a photo but knew moving around to find his phone would wake his sleepy boyfriend, so he stayed still, and instead turned his eyes out to watch the hail come down.

It wouldn’t be so bad to wait around under the bridge until the hail was definitely done, he thought. Hail storms didn’t usually last that long, and he wasn’t worried about driving in the rain, just the ice. The car was dry and safe, and it gave him the chance to stare at Lance all he wanted. 

Gently, he rested his head on top of Lance’s, and settled in to watch the storm. It was almost cosy beneath the bridge. The sound of rain hitting it way above the car’s roof was muffled enough to be hypnotic and soothing. As far as emergency stops went, this one wasn’t so bad. He liked the storm, and liked having Lance pressed against him.

He even liked Lance’s little snores.

There was nothing to complain about, really.


	80. Lance/Lotor - Gash

Lance never saw vampires on the south side of the mountain ridge. Vampires preferred the cold, and snow only fell over the mountain during winter. Not to mention that the southern territories all belonged to werewolf packs, and vampires didn’t want to come into contact with wolves. The McClain pack – his family – had a decently sized portion of land at the mountain’s base, where the terrain sloped off into a nearby harbour. 

In order to protect their borders, his family took turns patrolling the edge of their territory that faced the mountain. One side of the border faced the sea, and their neighbours to the left and right were friendly, so it was only the mountain-facing border they had to worry about. For the most part, their patrols consisted of running up and down for hours without entertainment, or turning away lone wolves who were never looking for trouble and generally caused no problems. 

Lance had only been allowed on patrols in the last few years, when his shifted form had finally matured to a decent size, growing in tangent with his human body. But even in all the years he’d been running the border, he’d never even caught a whiff of a vampire. That was why he was surprised when he came across a foreign scent, so unusual and coppery that he knew it had to be a vampire in their territory.

At first, he wasn’t sure what to do. He had shifted into his wolf form when he began his patrol, and he knew that all it would take for his siblings to come running to his side would be one howl, but something about the scent made him pause. His run tapered off, and he spent a moment sniffing the air, ears pricked high. The forest seemed quiet, but his nose never lied.

He’d never smelt anything like it, and wasn’t sure what to think about that. But there was something more to the scent, something beneath the copper, that was piquing his interest. He wasn’t quite sure what to think about that, either. It was… good, in a way. In a lot of ways, actually. The scent was making his heartrate jump like a spooked rabbit.

He slowed his steps until his paws made almost no noise against the dewy ground. The trees here were as familiar to him as the back of his hand, and he knew where to go to remain hidden. Several moments of walking brought him closer to the scent, towards where the trees bowed away from a small clearing. 

In the middle of it was a figure. He was tall, even for a vampire, and had long hair the colour of moonlight. His skin was pale, his complexion ashen, even for his species. Thick blood was dropping from a deep gash on his neck, marking a path down his exposed collarbone. He wasn’t wearing much – a torn white shirt, and tight, dark purple pants with shin-high boots that clung to the shape of his legs. Nothing he wore was clean. He hardly appeared to be breathing.

Lance lifted his head from where he’d had it low to the ground. The vampire was definitely the source of the strange scent. When he padded a little further into the clearing and there was no immediate response, he edged closer. The vampire was slumped against a tree, curled between gnarled roots that protruded out of the ground.

He sniffed at the vampire’s hair first, getting a closer look at the wound. Vampires didn’t heal as fast as wolves did, but they didn’t feel pain the same way, either. Their nerve endings were blunter, and their skin was much harder, especially if the vampire was older, past the age of a regular mortal. The oldest ones didn’t bleed: they cracked like marble, their skin splintering into shards, remaining broken until the wound eventually fused back together.

The gash on this vampire proved that he was on the younger side. He didn’t look like he had enough blood left in him to heal, so the wound on his neck continued to bleed, slow and thick. If he were a werewolf, his healing would have kicked in immediately, no matter how hungry he was. But vampires were very different from wolves, and that wasn’t something that would ever change.

Lance took a step back, trying to figure out what to do. He knew he should probably howl to his siblings, but he didn’t know what they would do to the vampire. A big part of him immediately refused to think of the vampire coming to harm because of him. There was just… something about him that appealed to Lance’s deepest instincts, something he wanted to protect, despite all logic.

Bracing himself against the ground, Lance nudged his head under the vampire’s arm and pulled him from the tree roots. It took a bit of manoeuvring but he managed to heave most of the vampire’s body onto his back, thankful that he was big enough to do so. Werewolves were much larger than normal wolves, after all – Lance’s father was almost eight feet tall. Lance doubted he’d grow that big, but he was well over five foot now, and still had a few years left to grow. For now, he was more than capable of carrying the vampire, even if he couldn’t quite get the vampire’s legs all the way up on his back.

He was probably halfway back to his family’s house when the vampire began to stir.

“What…?”

Lance paused, his head twisted to the side so he could see the vampire as he forced his eyes open. His eyes were a strange but beautiful mix of blue and indigo, neither fully one nor the other. They were glazed over, and he was so weak he could hardly lift his head from between Lance’s shoulder blades.

“Where…?” The croaked question fell flat as the vampire seemed to realise what was going on. He made an attempt to get up, but Lance kept him still. He let out a little rumble, his ears low, trying to convey his intentions. 

Fortunately, it seemed like the vampire understood. That, or he was too weak to do anything else. He clutched fistfuls of Lance’s fur and lowered his head again, eyes fluttering shut. Lance could tell he hadn’t quite fallen unconscious again.

By the time he’d made it back to his house, Lance was exhausted. Carrying the vampire all the way back from the border had tired him more than he’d thought it would’ve. His older sister Veronica all but flew out of the backdoor, probably having noticed the vampire’s scent. 

“Lance,” she started, tone disapproving, but a small growl from Lance kept her quiet. Under normal circumstances he would ever have done anything like this, but this wasn’t a normal circumstance. 

Veronica helped him drag the vampire inside. She took him into the living room while Lance shifted back and pulled on clothes. Only Veronica was home at the moment, which he counted as a good thing.

“Where did you find him?” Veronica demanded, when Lance entered the living room, his arms laden with towels and a bowl of warm water he’d gotten from the kitchen.

“The border,” Lance answered. He crouched beside the vampire and dipped one of the towels in the warm water. Cleaning the wound was currently his top priority. “Can you please find him something to eat?”

Veronica gave him an unimpressed look. They both knew that the healer on the next property over catered to a myriad of supernatural creatures, not just wolves. They would have blood packets the vampire could drink. But going to get one meant she would have to leave him alone with the vampire, something Veronica clearly didn’t want to do. As much as they bickered they were still family, and all of Lance’s siblings were protective of him.

“I’ll be fine,” he insisted. He glanced at the vampire. “But he won’t be.”

She let out an aggravated sigh. “Fine. But I’ll be right back!” After baring her teeth at the vampire, she spun on her heel and stormed off. After a moment he heard her paws thundering away from the house.

He turned his attention back to the vampire and set to cleaning the wound. The bleeding had stopped, but the wound had yet to close. It was worrying.

At some point, the vampire opened his eyes again. “Why are you helping me?”

Lance paused as he wiped the last of the blood away. “I don’t know.”

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“Don’t thank me yet.” Lance offered a wane smile. He took the dirtied towels away, and cleaned the bowl in the kitchen. When he returned to the lounge room he brought in a blanket that he carefully threw over the vampire, thinking it couldn’t hurt, even if vampires weren’t very sensitive to temperature. “My name is Lance, by the way.”

“Lotor,” the vampire readily said.

“Hold still.” Lance carefully tilted the vampire’s head to the side to get a better look at the wound. It definitely looked like it was healing, but very slowly. Getting some food into him would certainly fix that. “How did this happen?”

Something dark flashed across Lotor’s face, just for a moment. “My father.”

Lance’s eyes widened. He knew vampires weren’t as into family units as wolves were, but he could hardly imagine a parent hurting their child so badly. “Why?” he asked.

“He’s never approved of me,” Lotor said, voice filled with bitterness. “My mother was human, and he saw too much of her humanity in me.”

“So he tried to kill you?” Lance carefully traced his fingertips over Lotor’s throat, easily picturing the wound extending along the track his fingers marked, severing blood vessels and vertebrae. 

“It seems so.”

“How cruel.”

Lotor turned his eyes away. “I should be glad to think he believes I’m dead. At least then he won’t come and try to kill me again. I would think I’d be dead if you hadn’t found me.”

“Good thing I did, then.” Lance wasn’t sure what it was about this vampire, but something about him called to Lance. He couldn’t explain it. And from the way Lotor was looking at him – at only him, nothing around him – he knew the vampire felt the same. “Try and get some rest.”

“Your pack won’t mind me staying?”

“I won’t let them hurt you.” The words left him with a ferociousness Lance hadn’t expected, but they were honest. When Lotor reached for his hand, Lance squeezed it, and held it tightly. Lotor didn’t seem like the type of person who often needed comfort – not from the way he carried himself, the way he spoke, the look in his eyes – but that moment he was looking for it from Lance, and Lance was more than willing to provide it.

Eventually Lotor closed his eyes again, swallowing. Lance knew he was hungry. Any vampire who had lost that much blood would’ve been. 

When Veronica arrived back, both of Lance’s brothers were following close behind her. He shot her a sour look for calling them, his (metaphorical) hackles rising. He could smell protectiveness on his brothers’ scents, but it was nothing compared to what came over to him. The growl he let out made them back off. He was lucky in the sense that his brothers, who were the oldest of them all, had never hovered over him too much, never meddled like his sisters did. Their age gap was large enough for them to realise that Lance had grown up now, that he was mature enough to make his own decisions.

Even if those decisions involved bringing a vampire into their living room.

“Lance…?” Lotor whispered.

“It’s fine.” Lance took the blood packet from Veronica and handed it to Lotor, whose eyes flashed again. He gave Lance a weary, half-embarrassed look but couldn’t resist tearing into the bag. Despite the feverous way he drank, he didn’t spill a single drop. Lance had never seen someone eat with so much elegance. 

“Thank you,” Lotor gasped, when the bag was drained. There was a flush of colour to his cheeks now, and the wound on his neck started healing faster. He’d need more blood soon, but that seemed to be enough for now.

“Get some rest,” Lance repeated, urging him to settle back down on the couch. 

Lotor grasped his hand again, and closed his eyes. 

Lance knew there was going to be trouble later, but for now there was calm. That was all that mattered.


	81. Keith/Lance - Ornaments

Lance carefully cut a strip of colourful wrapping paper free. He’d left his gift wrapping pretty late this year, but that was mostly for a few last minute gifts he’d purchased earlier that week. The main bulk of his Christmas shopping had been done in advance, and now, on Christmas Eve, almost everything was ready.

After the very last gift was wrapped, he took it to the tree and placed it underneath. He and Keith had a little tree for their small apartment. It was their first one, and even though it was kind of cheap, he loved it. He was far more invested in Christmas celebrations than his boyfriend was, but Keith had gone and picked it out with him and he’d put up with Lance’s Christmas antics.

Thinking of Keith made him feel somewhat bittersweet. This was their first Christmas in their first apartment, but Lance would be alone. Keith had taken time off work but had been unexpectedly called away for a few days, which meant he wouldn’t be back until the day after Christmas. 

Lance couldn’t deny that he was a little disappointed. But Keith had tried to make up for it during that week – he’d done everything he thought was cliché Christmas stuff and Lance had loved it. They’d decorated the tree and Keith had let Lance put the star on top, and he’d helped Lance make Christmas cookies, and they’d wrapped gifts together. It was almost perfect, and Lance loved the effort he was putting in.

He still wished he had Keith with him, though.

They’d spent the afternoon talking on the phone, which had lifted Lance’s spirits. Lance was planning to go to his family’s house for their traditional Christmas lunch. All his siblings would be there, as well as his niece and nephew, who he absolutely adored. Keith had gone Christmas shopping with him this year too and they’d managed to get gifts for everyone in both their families, as well as all their friends. Christmas was one of Lance’s favourite times of the year so he didn’t mind spending a little more, knowing that his family members were just the same.

Once the presents were done, he threw himself down on the couch and let out a long sigh. The lights on the tree made colourful patterns across the wall and he couldn’t help but smile. He wasn’t the type of person to make a themed tree, so theirs was covered in all sorts of baubles and ornaments and tinsels of every colour possible. It was cheesy and he loved it.

It was almost getting to the time where he had to make dinner, but as he got up to do that, there was a knock on the front door. He frowned for a moment, wondering if his elderly neighbour needed more sugar (she asked for about a cup a week, which he always gave – he guessed it was her excuse to come over for a chat and he didn’t mind).

When the knocking came again, he shook his thoughts away, and headed for the door. “Coming!”

Standing on the other side of the door was none other than Keith.

“Hey,” Keith said, giving Lance a small smile when it became clear Lance was too shocked to speak. “Decided to come home a little early.”

“You’re back!” Lance threw his arms around Keith’s neck, almost knocking him over in the process, and squeezed him really hard. 

Keith returned the gesture, putting his face into the crook of Lance’s neck. “Yeah, I’m back. Couldn’t let you spend our first Christmas here alone.”


	82. Keith/Lance - Pier

Once he was sure the surface above the water was quiet, Lance pulled himself up over the edge of the pier, peeking across the boardwalk. He didn’t spot any humans, and wasn’t sure if he was disappointed by that or not. Technically, he shouldn’t be this close to them. It wasn’t like humans didn’t know about merfolk, but it wasn’t exactly safe. 

In any case, he wasn’t looking to be seen by humans. Just one in particular. 

It seemed like his human wasn’t nearby though, so with a huff he slipped back down into the water and made his way over to the next pier. He never really understood the way humans laid out their structures, and why some boats could only go to certain piers. Humans could be confusing creatures, but he wasn’t one to judge. 

When he reached the next pier, he waited until he heard silence, and then pushed up out of the water. This pier was empty too, but after a moment, he saw a figure appear from beneath the shadow of a docked boat. He let out an excited trill, the fins behind his ears flicking up in an obvious display of excitement. 

Keith appeared a moment later, a hooded cloak wrapped tightly around him. He pushed the hood back when he drew closer, exposing the stern but handsome face Lance had spied from the sea all those months ago. Their meeting had been truly coincidental – Keith had found Lance after Lance had washed up on the shore after being caught out in an unexpected storm. Lance had been enamoured with him from the beginning; he’d never seen such an interesting human, never thought one would choose to heal a merfolk over capturing them. 

For the most part, Keith actually was a bit of an outcast in the human society. He was abrasive and hard to get along with, though Lance didn’t particularly mind. After they got to know each other thanks to Lance prodding Keith into talking, Keith grew to like his company, too. It took some time but he opened up to Lance, talked about how he was alone most of the time, and how he found it difficult to talk to people.

But not to Lance.

“Sorry I’m late,” Keith said, as he lowered himself down onto the end of the pier, dropping his legs over the edge. Lance shuffled towards him, putting one hand on Keith’s leg to help keep himself steady. Since the moon was high, the tide was in, so holding himself out of the water wasn’t difficult. “I brought you something.”

Lance looked into the cloth Keith was carrying, which he unwrapped to reveal a strange chunk of… food? “What is it?” he asked, eager.

“A loaf of bread,” Keith said, as he tore a chunk off the end. “Don’t get it wet or it’ll go bad.”

Curious, Lance accepted the offering and took a bite. He was surprised to find that while the exterior was hard, the inside was soft, and almost spongy. He’d never tasted anything with a texture quite like that. “It’s so strange!”

“A good strange?”

Lance nodded, sending droplets of water flying everywhere. He finished his piece and accepted another from Keith, who watched him eat with a faint smile on his face. Lance knew he wasn’t a very expressive person, so he treasured every small smile he spotted. 

When he was finished, he rested his cheek against Keith’s knee, trilling when Keith began to gently stroke his fins.

Perhaps their companionship would be strange to some, but for them, it was perfect.


	83. Kinkade/Lance - Lazily

Lance held his breath as he listened to footsteps walking down the hallway. He was still half asleep, but a tingling sensation had filled him, the type that came when a person realised they hadn’t fallen asleep in their own room. “Shit,” he whispered, because that was exactly what had happened to him, and if anyone went down the hallway to his room looking for him, he wouldn’t be there.

The boy sleeping next to him stirred, blinking open dark eyes. “What is it?”

“I accidentally fell asleep,” Lance whispered, his eyes trained on the door. It was mostly dark in the room, just enough to see by, but the hallway beyond the door was well lit. After a moment, a shadow walked over, carrying on past the room completely. 

“Sorry, I should’ve stayed awake,” Kinkade said, though he didn’t seem particularly sorry. He still had his arm around Lance’s waist, one wide hand splayed against Lance’s hip. At some point his fingers had crept up under the hem of Lance’s shirt so his warm palm was pressed against Lance’s skin.

Lance tried to fight off a yawn. He really was tired, and the thought of dragging himself back to his room without anyone seeing wasn’t a good one. Getting caught out past curfew wouldn’t bode well for his record. He didn’t get to spend a lot of time one-on-one with Kinkade. They were always around others, never alone. It could be frustrating when Lance craved the company only Kinkade could offer.

In some ways, he thought they made an unusual pair. Lance knew he was loud and outgoing. His personality was wild and sometimes he was uncontrollable, even in his own hands, though he didn’t think that was necessarily a bad thing. He was just excitable. Kinkade was the opposite. He was quiet and calm, and didn’t often display the same kind of excitement Lance so often did. That wasn’t to say he wasn’t passionate, because the minute a camera fell into his hands he changed into a completely different person, but must of the time he was stoic and collected in a way that people rarely were.

But that didn’t stop them from getting along. They liked a lot of the same things, and Lance’s talkative nature made up for Kinkade’s silence. When they were together, Lance felt like he could be himself, whatever that self was like. Kinkade’s placid personality was enough to deal with Lance when he was restless with energy, and when Lance was feeling down or tired, then Kinkade’s silence was like a bubble around him, like the calm beneath the water’s surface. 

“Just stay here tonight,” Kinkade whispered, his hand flexing against Lance’s hip.

Lance nestled down against Kinkade’s side, lulled back by the warmth emanating from him. Kinkade was only wearing a singlet and pyjama pants, and the amount of skin he had exposed – his arms, his shoulders, his neck, a slip of collarbone every now and then – was absolutely delightful to cuddle against. 

“I’m going to get into trouble,” Lance mumbled.

“I’ll bail you out.”

“Oh, will you now? And how will you do that?”

Kinkade lazily waved his hand. “It’ll come to me eventually.” 

Lance let out a quiet laugh. “Alright, I’ll stay.” He wouldn’t have said no in the first place. He was far too comfortable, and Kinkade’s arm around him was solid and inviting. It was no wonder he’d fallen asleep in the first place.

Kinkade hummed, his voice deep. He started to stroke Lance’s hip and it was so comforting that Lance was almost instantly back asleep.


	84. Keith/Lance - Arms

There was something deceptively strong about Keith’s arms. Lance knew he was pretty well muscled – his shoulders were broad and his biceps noticeably bulged whenever he lifted something heavy or stretched his arms above his head. It was something Lance always knew about, in the back of his mind.

But lately he’d started noticing it a lot more.

Maybe it was because Keith had been doing a lot of heavy lifting lately. They were moving into their new apartment, which meant all their possessions had to come with them. There was at least a dozen boxes plus all their furniture to lug into the new place. At least the service elevator was large enough to fit most of the large things – like their fridge – inside with a bit of squeezing. The only thing they had to heave up the stairs was the lounge, but they were on the second floor, so it wasn’t too much of a hike.

Moving had definitely given Lance a new appreciation for his boyfriend. Keith was pretty no-nonsense about the whole thing. He wanted to get it over and done with as quickly as possible, and had most of his stuff organised before Lance had even begun. To be fair, Lance owned more than him. Keith didn’t need much to be happy but Lance loved having little trinkets and keepsakes.

As much as Lance didn’t want to admit it, Keith was physically stronger than him. It meant he could carry more than Lance, and while that wasn’t a bad thing, it did make Keith strain a little more. Not enough that he was going to drop anything he was carrying or hurt himself, but enough that his muscles stood out more than usual. 

It was ridiculously distracting. Lance had walked into the building’s front door twice because he was too busy staring at his boyfriend’s muscled arms. Keith had looked at him like he was crazy both times and Lance was partially inclined to agree with him. He’d been ogling his boyfriend since long before they got together, so why was he suddenly so fixated? 

He couldn’t explain it. The entire time they were moving, he was torn between being too tired from all the work they were doing and aroused enough to want to jump Keith where he stood. It was absolutely absurd.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Keith asked, as he set down a box in their new living room. He gave Lance a weird look as he lifted the neckline of his shirt to wipe sweat off his face, exposing his stomach and a flash of hipbone, which certainly didn’t help Lance’s situation. 

“No reason!”

Keith’s eyes turned sceptical. “Uh huh.”

Lance flushed. That definitely hadn’t come out as smoothly as he’d intended. 

“Do I have something on my face?”

“Nope.”

“Uh huh…”

Lance went even redder.

After a moment, Keith seemed to realise exactly what Lance’s problem was. He had this weird way or knowing exactly what Lance was thinking at the exact moment Lance didn’t want him to know. It was like he could tell exactly why Lance was blushing no matter the occasion, and it was maddening. 

“Really? Now?” Keith asked, a teasing glint flashing through his eyes. He gestured at himself. “I’m a mess.”

“Yeah, a hot one,” Lance muttered. If only they didn’t have more to bring up. With that in mind, he spun on his heel, and marched back out of the front door. “Come on, there’s more stuff waiting in the moving van.”

He could practically feel Keith smirking at his back.


	85. Keith/Lance - Ozone

Lance rubbed at his temples with his fingertips. He could feel an impending headache coming on, and no matter what he did to quell it, he wasn’t having any success. He always got like this when it became unbearably hot and humid. Everything outside was clam and grey; the oppressive sort of silence of a world waiting for a storm to come.

Storms never boded well for him.

When he was little, a vengeful warlock cursed him. He was innocent; in the wrong place at the wrong time. Now, when it stormed, he became sick, and his magic spun out of control. He did his best to isolate himself, knowing he was a danger to those around him. His headaches caused lightning to strike down trees and houses, and a single cough could cause thunder to rumble so deeply that rocks and mounds of snow in the winter shook free from the mountain that backed his village.

No matter how much he prayed, he knew a storm was coming that evening. Despite the pain in his head, he set about closing his house. He had to take everything away from windows and lock them tightly, and bring in his terracotta flower pots from the garden. He lived alone, on the outer edges of the town, but he still had neighbours who gave him weary, pitying looks as he locked his gate and his little greenhouse. 

Despite living away from the town centre, he was still too close to people. Instead of spending storms hiding in his house (he’d tried that before, when he’d first moved away from his family home – it hadn’t gone well), he holed up at the abandoned lighthouse by the cliffs. It was fairly well maintained, considering it hadn’t been used in more than a decade by anything other than gulls. 

With his house closed up, Lance packed a bag, and began the trek to the lighthouse. It was a thirty minute walk from the town, which Lance managed with only a minimum of huffing. The lighthouse itself was quite tall; the inside landing was an open, empty space, and a spiralling staircase lead up to the main floor. The stairs were always more punishing then the walk from the town.

Like usual, the main floor was empty. He set down his bag and shook off the sheets covering the bed, small dining table, and chairs. Dust plumed in the air, making him sneeze. Outside the first rumble of thunder echoed him.

The walk had been tiring, and he had to sit down on the edge of the bed to stop the room from spinning. He cradled his head in his hands to stop it from feeling like it was spitting apart at the seams. It was always like this. Always painful, with no one there to help him. 

Unable to keep himself upright, he fell back down onto the bed, his hands over his eyes. It was dark and he’d only lit one lantern but even its weak flame was too bright. Rain began to patter against the wall of windows facing the sea, where watchmen used to look out and assess the paths of the ships that used to rely on the lighthouse’s beam. With every moment that passed, the rain became harder and harder, until the noise was deafening. It fell in violent sheets against the windows.

He couldn’t stand it. The lightning was so harsh it blinded him with every flash and made everything in the room turn white. He heard it crack against the world outside, no doubt felling trees. The acrid smell of ozone coming off the strikes began to burn in the air.

Storms always passed in a dizzying mess of loud noises and crippling pain. It felt like his bones were shattering with every strike of lightning against the lighthouse. He normally couldn’t get himself to concentrate on what was happening around him. It was why he isolated himself. He could barely lift his head, or reach for anything around him. 

He was entirely vulnerable.

But not out of it enough to mistake the sound of the door opening.

Lightning struck once more, illuminating a figure in the doorway. “Who are you?” Lance croaked, voice weak. “You can’t be here.”

“You’re the source of this forsaken storm,” the intruder accused. 

Lance tried not to let his eyes roll into the back of his head as a crushing pain jumped between his temples. Lightning snapped against the balcony just beyond the windows, sparking against the metal railing. 

“Why can’t you control it?”

Lance forced his eyes open. The intruder was leaning over him, their hood pushed back to expose a young face, handsome but intimidating. The man had a scar on his right cheek extending down beneath his chin and the collar of his cloak, and his eyes were a vibrant violet, a sign that he had magic just as Lance did.

“It’s a curse,” Lance whimpered. 

A hand touched his forehead, startling him, making his eyes fly wide open. The intruder didn’t seem to want to harm him – he was simply staring, his eyes boring into Lance’s face like he was looking for something. After a moment, he turned his gaze outwards, where the storm continued to rage.

Then, out of nowhere, the intruder marched outside. He flung the balcony door open, letting in a wet gust that almost blew his cloak right off of him.

“No,” Lance shouted, as he tried and failed to get up, “it’s dangerous!”

People had been hurt because of his curse. Freak lightning storms and rock slides and flooding had injured dozens, had destroyed homes and valuable objects, but they’d never killed. Lance made sure no one died.

But walking right out into a storm was one way to change that.

Except, to Lance’s astonishment, the man didn’t die. Rain immediately soaked him to the bone but he hardly seemed to notice. He looked focused. When the next lightning strike came, he clenched a fist, and threw out his arm. A dagger of deep purple lightning pierced through the gaps in his fingers, extending in a forking branch to reach the arm coming down from the skies. A shower of zapping sparks rained down onto the balcony.

Lance had never seen anything like it. His curse affected his magic, but if it hadn’t, he would have had the ability to control water, and through that, storms. He’d never met anyone with the same ability, like this intruder had. Let alone anybody with the strength to control and produce their own lightning.

He watched, transfixed, as the intruder patiently waited for the next strike before meeting it with his own lightning. It was like he had total control over the storm, like he knew when it was going to strike before the first flashing sparks appeared. He moved like a dancer, his limbs steady, his expression unwavering.

But when Lance looked closer, he saw that the intruder’s magic was taking a toll. The gloves on his hands were smoking, even in the rain. Little embers ran along his fingers. There was no way it wasn’t painful. 

What he was doing did nothing to ease the pain in Lance’s head. Lance couldn’t watch for much longer, and collapsed back on the back, squeezing his head between his hands. But the intruder was protecting the lighthouse and the surrounding trees from lightning strikes, and that made Lance feel a bit safer. He knew he didn’t have to worry about the lightning damaging the lighthouse.

When the storm was over, he knew there would be a lot of questions to ask, and to answer. But for now, just having someone there – even a total stranger – comforted Lance like nothing else. He wasn’t alone in the storm anymore.


	86. Lance/Shiro - Armchair

Lance yawned as he curled up in the plush armchair he and Shiro had in the living room. It had been a long few days of Christmas celebrations with both sides of their families and their friends, and Lance was exhausted. He loved this time of year, but it was always tiring no matter what happened.

After all but throwing himself down in the armchair, Lance let out another mighty yawn. He’d done a lot of preparations this year for the Christmas party with his family, and he was still tired from that. Not to mention that he and Shiro had bought a baked dish to every party, as was standard, which meant there was a stack of dishes piled up in the sink waiting to be cleaned.

“Did you have fun these last few days?” Shiro asked, as he brought Lance a glass of juice.

Lance hummed, tilting his head against the back of the chair. “Yeah, it was good. Glad we didn’t host any of the parties this year.”

“Too messy?”

He laughed quietly. “Yeah, too messy. My Ma is going to be finding bits of tinsel between the floorboards for the next month, I swear.”

A little smile twitched at the corner of Shiro’s lips. He sat on the edge of the armchair and ran his fingers through Lance’s hair, making Lance let out a dreamy sigh. With Shiro doing that, it definitely wouldn’t take him long to fall asleep, and his boyfriend knew it.

“I still need to clean up the kitchen a little,” Lance said, though he made no move to stop Shiro, instead resting a thankful hand on Shiro’s knee. With every pass of Shiro’s fingers through his hair, he felt himself melt into the armchair a little more. Shiro knew exactly what to do to relax him.

“We can do it later,” Shiro told him, amusement in his voice. “We deserve a nap.”

Lance hummed again, easily convinced. He closed his eyes and let the feel of Shiro pampering him lull him towards sleep. “Okay, that sounds good.”

Shiro laughed to himself. Lance could sense him looking at him, but he couldn’t open his eyes. He was so relaxed he felt like he didn’t have bones anymore, and after the stress of the holidays, that was exactly how he wanted to feel. 

There was nothing better than spending time with their loved ones.


	87. Keith/Lance - Salsa

Lance really regretted staying up so late the previous night. It was a Saturday, which meant that today was the normal day he did all his housework on, including cleaning and grocery shopping. For once, he and Keith didn’t actually need much from the store – barely two bags worth of items. He’d gone on his own because of that and had left Keith at their apartment, which he’d been cleaning at the time.

After letting himself into the building and taking the elevator up to their apartment, Lance knocked on their door and waited for Keith to let him in. “I think I got everything,” Lance said the moment Keith opened the door. They were lucky that there was a grocers at the end of the block because it meant they rarely had to drive to get food. They only took Lance’s car if they were getting more than they could carry between them.

“Did you get the cherries?” Keith asked, peering into the shopping bags as Lance heaved them up onto the kitchen bench. 

“Yep.” 

“And the butter?”

“Yeah, got that too.” He began to fish the frozen items from the bags so that they didn’t melt any further, and distributed them between the fridge and freezer accordingly. While he tackled one bag, Keith started on the other, though it looked like he’d been in the middle of washing the dishes when Lance had arrived back home.

“What about the salsa?” Keith asked next. They’d finished the last batch two nights previous while they’d been watching a movie together.

Lance paused, holding a new box of teabags in his hands as his mind flashed back to the grocery store. Had he picked up a new jar of salsa? He liked to make it from scratch a lot of the time, but lately they’d been buying it, since they’d found a brand that had a really nice recipe. He let out a groan as he realise he hadn’t gotten more. “I forgot!”

Keith let out a quiet laugh. He folded up the empty grocery bag and then put his arms around Lance’s waist, pressing a comforting kiss to Lance’s cheek. “It’s alright, we don’t need any.”

“I can’t believe I forgot it! What if we watch another movie tonight? We won’t have any.”

“We can walk down later,” Keith said, laughing again.

Lance couldn’t help but offer him a grin.


	88. Keith/Lance - Bartending

Lance groaned as he pressed his hands to the small of his back and stretched. It had been a long shift, and every part of him was aching. He loved his job bartending, but it could be a bit strenuous at times. That night had been really packed right from the beginning, the main room where he served full of rowdy alphas and overconfident patrons. He generally didn’t have to deal with the really loud ones since the security guards would handle them, but tonight it had been far too busy.

He hadn’t, however, failed to notice when one certain security guard had kept a close eye on him.

The new guard was an alpha named Keith. He had a stern face and a no-nonsense attitude, and although he spent most of the night’s shift lingering by the wall closest to the bar, he had a way of controlling crowds with just a stare that Lance found intriguing. He normally felt pretty safe with the guards stationed around the bar, but having Keith around made him almost forget he could be in danger at all.

It was strangely thrilling. He’d never reacted to an alpha like that before.

Lance made sure to send a grateful smile to Keith on his way out that night.

He noticed Keith a lot more in the following week. Keith was quick to sort out drunk customers when they started getting rude with Lance. Drunk alphas hardly had the chance to make crude and inappropriate remarks to Lance before Keith was there to escort them out. It wasn’t like Keith didn’t provide the same safety for the other employees – especially the omegas, like Lance – but there was just a way he had of always being there right when Lance would need him. Even his co-workers had noticed.

“Maybe that new alpha has a thing for you,” Romelle teased, as she and Lance got ready in the staff changing room. She wriggled her fingers in his sides as she tied his apron at the back for him, making him yelp. The sound echoed around the room.

Keith popped his head in the door, looking confused. “Everything alright?”

Romelle shot Lance a sly, knowing look.

Lance flushed. “Yep, everything’s fine.”

Keith nodded and disappeared.

“Told you,” Romelle whispered. “He’s totally into you.”

Lance’s flush deepened. He grabbed his apron strings from her and tied it himself. “So?”

Romelle’s eyes widened. “You’re into him too!”

“Shh,” Lance hissed, shrinking into his shoulders. “I am not.”

“You totally are.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m going to work now, goodbye.”

“Aw, Lance!”

He darted out of the staff room before she could tease him anymore and thanked his lucky stars that she’d been rostered on for the outside bar that evening. He couldn’t deal with her teasing, it was so embarrassing, partially because she was right. He did kind of like Keith. There was just something about him that made Lance want to smile.

That evening was just the same. Lance felt Keith keeping an eye on him as he carried on with his shift. It wasn’t extremely crowded that night, just enough to keep him busy. Most of his customers were pleasant, or at least not impolite. Lance noticed that there were sections of the bar that always had a certain type of customer – the end of the bar, where the lights were dimmer, always had lone individuals who were trying to drown out their problems. The centre of the bar was for the chatty people full of energy. Everywhere else was for the people in-between moods.

It wasn’t unusual for him to have pushy or rude people, though. Surprisingly, a lot of older customers were less polite than the young adults his age – they never said thank you, didn’t tip well or at all, and treated Lance less like a server and more like a servant. A lot of pushy alphas tended to think that Lance owed them more than a drink; they’d wave around money like it was an incentive for him to throw himself at them. It was even worse when they were heavily intoxicated.

That night, there was one customer that sent shivers down Lance’s spine, and not the good kind. He ordered his drinks without manners and stared at Lance with a ghastly look in his eyes. Plus he referred to Lance as “omega”, not by his name, or by something polite. Lance didn’t like it. He did his best to ignore the broody alpha, and let the beta behind the bar with him serve the man.

At the end of Lance’s shift, the man was still there, and still staring at Lance. He tried to put it from his mind as he changed out of his dirty apron in the staffroom. He’d had unnerving customers before. Maybe that man was staring because Lance was the only omega rostered on that night. Alphas sometimes did that without realising.

He ducked outside for a second to say goodbye to Romelle and then looped around the building towards the parking lot like he normally did. There were streetlights, but it was late at night, and there were more dark corners than illuminated areas, which made Lance nervous. A weird, cold feeling prickled at his spine. He clutched at his bag and suddenly wished he’d walked back through the bar instead of this way, so that he wouldn’t be alone.

Across the parking lot, he spotted his car. He always parked under a light. Seeing his car filled him relief, and he quickened his pace towards it, wanting to get straight in and lock his doors. He fumbled for his keys in his bag but eventually pulled them free just as he reached his car. 

In his panic, he didn’t hear footsteps approaching him from behind until a hand reached over his shoulder to slam his car door shut before he could open it wide enough. 

“Where are you going, omega?”

Lance’s heart leapt into his throat. It was that alpha from before, the one who hadn’t stopped staring. He was breathing wetly down Lance’s neck, and it made him shrink into his shoulders.

“What do you want?” Lance asked. He hated how his voice betrayed exactly how he was feeling.

A meaty hand clapped over the back of Lance’s neck, jerking him away from his car and making him cry out. His bag fell off his shoulder. “Don’t backtalk me,” the alpha snarled, tightening his grip. “You’re going to give me what I want.”

Lance let out a weak snarl, his fingers scrabbling at the man’s hand. He tried to kick his leg back but the alpha jabbed him in the side, making him buckle. His frightened scent spilled out of him, thick enough that even his own nose could pick it up in the air.

When the alpha began to drag him further from his car, there was a sudden shift in the atmosphere. A low snarl rippled over them. The alpha tried to react, but his growl was cut off by a pained gasp. His hand was ripped away from Lance’s neck, sending Lance stumbling forwards. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Keith taking down the alpha like it was nothing – the second the alpha hit the floor, Keith had him pinned, his arms twisted behind his back. He wasn’t even breathing hard.

Lance slumped against his car, rubbing at his throat. Another security guard came running from the bar, probably having picked up Keith’s overpowering scent. Keith let the other guard take care of the alpha, and instead came to Lance, slow and careful, like he was afraid Lance was going to run away. 

But Lance didn’t run away. He welcomed Keith’s hands on him, sinking into the familiar alpha. Keith’s scent overwhelmed him, helped his heartrate slow. He pressed his face into the crook of Keith’s neck and let himself be comforted.

“Are you alright?” Keith’s fingers touched Lance’s neck, as light as a feather. “You’re not hurt?”

Lance shook his head. “Thanks,” he whispered, shaky.

Keith drew him closer again, wrapping him in his arms. His scent was full of protectiveness and fondness, and smelt better than anything Lance had come across before. Lance clutched at Keith’s shirt. Keith kept a gentle hand cupped on the back of Lance’s neck, so unlike the other alpha. His gentleness made Lance feel safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since it's well into 2019 for me now, happy new year! This marks the start of my fifth year of continuous writing, I hope I can keep it up haha. I hope everyone enjoys their passage into the new year!


	89. Keith/Lance - Glen

A ringing like glass wind chimes rippled through Lance’s mind the minute Keith returned to their glen. He set aside the flower petals he’d been crushing in favour of wandering out into the grass courtyard, where straight lines of perfectly grown willow trees afforded them the private comfort of a fence. The trees been a gift from Pidge to celebrate his and Keith’s bonding ceremony – she’d grown them with her own magic, and because of that, they flourished all year round.

After a moment, Keith appeared, using the back of one hand to part the curtains of green leaves separating them. He was still wearing his ceremonial armour, and had his hair tied low at the back of his neck. He looked tired, as he often did after meeting with the Blade of Marmora, but it was important to keep in touch with them. They were vital in protecting the world they inhabited, and alongside Altea’s magical prowess, were the ones ensuring magic users remained safe from poachers. Keeping the borders of the magic lands protected from invaders was a top priority for all of them.

“I made tea for us,” Lance said, as the calm chiming faded. It was a little magic quirk of theirs, one that was tied to their home – whenever one of them entered, the little chime sounded, just for them to hear. There was a different noise for strangers, and one for friends, but Lance loved that little chime best.

Keith padded across the grass towards him, and pressed a small, welcoming kiss to Lance’s cheek. “That’s wonderful, thank you.”

Lance gave him a smile. He took a moment to help Keith out of his armour, setting it aside on the table outside of their home to be polished later. Like most fey, their home had been carved out of a great tree, one tall enough to withstand storms, offer plenty of shade, and old enough to be imbued with bountiful magic. Living in the tree, in a hollowed out section large enough for their needs, imbued them with continuous magic. In return, they used their magic to sustain the tree, and to help it continue to grow.

When his armour was off, Keith wandered through the arched doorway into the tree, their home. Lance spent a little while longer glancing around their courtyard, a smile still on his face. The willow trees created a boundary around their home, touching the tree on either side before extending a decent ways into the forest ahead. The grass stretching from end to end in the courtyard was softer than fabric beneath his bare feet. It was a peaceful, idyllic oasis of greenery and magic, and he loved every inch of it. He and Keith had only been living in their home for a few moon cycles, so it still felt new to him.

Inside, Keith was sitting on the plush cushions by their low dining table, his legs folded under him, his palms curved around the steaming teacup Lance had left on the tabletop. Lance lowered himself down on the cushion across from him and cast his eyes around the room for the teapot. He’d left his cup on the table but hadn’t filled it. When he spotted the teapot, he extended his palm, and drew a stream of boiling water from the spout. It curled through the air like a sea current before neatly depositing itself in Lance’s teacup. Not a single drop spilled.

“Lazy,” Keith teased.

Lance suppressed an amused smile behind a sip of tea. “How did the meeting go today?”

“Well,” Keith said, setting his cup down. “The border guards haven’t seen any poachers or drainers in a while.”

“Good.” Lance had never met a drainer, and he certainly never wanted to. They were mortals who used dark, dangerous magic in order to drain the energy from naturally magic creatures, like fey. Once the magic had been drained, it couldn’t be replenished. 

“How was your day?”

“Productive. Pidge came over during the morning to check on the willow trees, and she said they’re in perfect health. I think she was a little surprised actually.”

“They’re not house plants, we can’t kill them.”

“I know, but I think she thinks if anyone could, it would be us,” Lance laughed. “It’s like she forgets I grew up on a farm. Growing things is in my nature, even if I’m not a nature fey.”

“That’s true.”

Despite that, they didn’t need to do much for the trees. Pidge came to check on them, yes, but it was more of an excuse to come over. Her big brother, Matt, was currently out doing work on the border, so she felt a little lonely every now and then. Lance was more than content to entertain her. They could be rather childish when they were together, but that was a good thing. He was used to being the little sibling, but around her, he felt like a big brother. It made him miss his own family a little less.

“I also went down to the river today, to send a message to my family,” Lance told him, when he thought of it. Water fey like him could send messages through streams and rivers practically all over the world, so long as the water reached. He and Keith lived quite close to a stream that eventually bled out into the sea, and since his family farm was beside a harbour, it was easy to send messages to his parents and older siblings. 

“How are they?”

“They’re good. Veronica still teases, even in her messages. I can hear her voice chatting in my ear like a bothersome bug.”

Keith laughed quietly. “But you miss her,” he said.

“I do,” Lance agreed. He missed all of his siblings, and his parents, even though he saw them regularly. His family had always and would always be the most important thing to him, and for a long time now, that had included Keith. “They want you to visit again.”

Keith raised his eyebrows. “Me?”

“What can I say? They love you.”

That made Keith laugh again. He hadn’t had much of a family growing up, and had taken some time to warm to Lance’s, in the sense that he’d felt very out of place amongst everyone. The warm environment of a close family had been foreign to him. But, since Lance had met him, he’d reunited with his mother, and grown close to members of the Blade, where she resided. He was starting to appreciate a family for what it could be, not what it wasn’t.

Feeling teasing, Lance shivered a little, making sure to shake his shoulders for emphasis. “Autumn is certainly coming, isn’t it?”

Keith hardly seemed cold, but upon seeing Lance shiver, turned towards their hearth and released a little spark of flame from his palm. It danced through the air and ignited in the fireplace, where logs gathered from the surrounding woods caught flame and began spreading warmth through their home.

Lance grinned at him. “Lazy,” he said.

Keith flushed a little at Lance’s teasing. “You said you were cold on purpose.”

Lance hid his grin behind his teacup. “Perhaps.”


	90. Lance/Shiro - Smoothie

Lance was in the middle of making a smoothie when he heard the tell-tale sound of glass shattering. He paused and turned the blender off, briefly wondering if he’d misheard the sound. A quiet “ow” coming from the other room told him he hadn’t.

“What’d you break?” he called.

“A glass,” came Shiro’s despondent answer. “Accidentally knocked it off the coffee table.”

“Are you bleeding?”

“A little.”

“Okay, don’t move.” He set aside his smoothie for a moment and instead went to get the first aid kit as well as the dustpan and broom. 

Shiro was sitting on the edge of the couch, holding a tissue to his bare ankle. He’d picked up most of the large shards of glass and had stacked them on coffee table. He looked just as miserable as he had when Lance left him to rest on the couch.

“What happened?” Lance asked, as he began to carefully sweep up the remaining glass. 

“Wanted a drink, but my head spun when I sat up. I think I moved too fast,” Shiro sighed, his brows dipped in a frustrated furrow. 

When the glass had been swept up, Lance put the dustpan down, and then opened the first aid kit. Shiro only had a small nick to his ankle, probably where the glass had flicked up off the ground when it had broken. Lance cleaned the little cut and stuck a band-aid over it. “Better?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Lance gave his husband a small smile. “I know you hate feeling useless, but you need the rest. Just call me if you want something, alright? I’m only in the next room over.”

Shiro matched his smile, though it was clear to see he was a little upset. “I know.”

Lance patted his knee. He knew Shiro hated it when he got sick. It was the middle of summer, time for them both to be out in the sun, doing fun things like they did every year. They both enjoyed going on adventures, and it was something that had made them feel closer to one another. But at the beginning of the week, Shiro had been shot down with the flu, and he still hadn’t recovered. His cough was mostly gone, as was his fever, but he still had a headache and got a little dizzy when he moved too fast.

He was sure Shiro would only be unwell for a couple more days at the most, but it was still getting Shiro down. He didn’t often get sick; he hated the feeling like he couldn’t do things for himself. 

After throwing out the glass, Lance went back to making his smoothie. There was enough for two, so when it was done blending, he took in two glasses to the lounge room and joined Shiro on the couch. “Want some?” he offered.

Shiro gave him another smile. This one was less strained. “Thanks, love.”

Lance pressed a kiss to Shiro’s forehead as he pulled him closer. “Don’t worry about it.”


	91. Keith/Lance - Unguarded

Keith didn’t often compliment people. He wasn’t really a social guy, even if he did enjoy spending time with his friends. And he wasn’t really an affectionate guy either, even if he did enjoy being close with his boyfriend. That wasn’t to say he didn’t have his moments, but in general, he just wasn’t a touchy person. It wasn’t in his nature.

He was trying to be a little more open with his thoughts, though. Having a boyfriend like Lance certainly helped with that. Lance was very affectionate, and very open with his feelings. He was utterly unafraid to speak his mind. He hardly ever hesitated before telling Keith what he was feeling, or if he liked it when Keith wore a certain shirt, or if he enjoyed it when Keith ran his fingers through his hair. Things like that came naturally to Lance, like he never debated speaking the words.

Keith was a bit envious of that.

But he was trying to be better with compliments in particular. He liked the way Lance reacted to them. Maybe it was because they were sort of rare from Keith, they might’ve sounded more honest, but Lance really seemed to appreciate them. He lit up with this stupid grin every time Keith managed to squeeze out one of the thousands of compliments running around his head, and Keith loved that grin.

It helped that there were a lot of things to compliment when it came to Lance. They hadn’t gotten along at first, but when they did, they made a great team. Keith found Lance incredibly attractive – especially his blue eyes – and Lance’s cheesy pick-up lines and puns had eventually become endearing. He hadn’t thought so at first, but now Lance’s goofiness was definitely one of the things Keith loved about him most. 

Despite his mission to compliment Lance more, he found that it came easier when they were in private. They shared a little apartment together, and in the privacy of their home Keith felt far more comfortable expressing himself. He knew Lance would never judge him for anything, and that made him feel more confident in himself.

“That’s a good colour on you,” he said one evening, as they were preparing to go out to dinner. Lance had come out of the bathroom wearing a new shirt he’d bought the week before. It was the same shade of red as Keith’s favourite jacket, and it fit perfectly over Lance’s shoulders.

Lance had gone as red as the shirt at the compliment, and he’d given Keith a big smile.

For some reason, he found it was easier to give compliments about certain things, like food for example. Lance was the one who did most of the cooking in their relationship because Keith wasn’t that great at it. He could cook simple things, but that was about it. Lance was the one with talent in the kitchen, so Keith had taken to cleaning up afterwards to balance out the work load. 

When Lance cooked, it was easy to compliment him. He made a lot of Cuban dishes from his childhood, and they were always amazing. “This tastes really good,” Keith would say, when Lance made a new dish for him to try. Truth be told, nothing he ever made tasted bad, but complimenting him on all of his food always made Lance puff up with pride. They both knew he wasn’t the best cook in the world, but he was still pretty fantastic. He’d learned almost everything he knew from his parents, who both enjoyed cooking.

The best time to compliment Lance, though, was when he was half asleep.

Keith tended to wake up earlier than Lance most mornings. He showered first in the morning, and would usually turn the kettle on so that when Lance eventually dragged himself out of bed, there would be hot tea waiting for him to drink. 

When the weekend rolled out, Keith usually slept in for a little longer, as did Lance. He was still the first one to wake up, but he didn’t have to get out of bed immediately, so he liked to lounge around for a bit. He’d stare at Lance to his heart’s content, never getting tired of the way sleep relaxed Lance’s features into something effortlessly soft and angelic. There were no hard lines on his face when he slept, no furrows in his brow, no downturn at his lips. His hair was always a bird’s nest after he slept, always a tangled, flicking mess. Keith loved it, even if Lance screeched every time he saw himself in the mirror in the morning.

Sometimes, if Lance woke up and noticed him staring, he’d sleepily mumble something like, “Is there something on my face?” or, “What time is it, did I sleep too long?” 

Keith would usually just smile, feeling unguarded and happy. “No,” he’d say, to answer Lance’s question, “you just look really pretty.”

It would take a moment for the words to register, but when they did, Lance’s eyes would widen a little, and faint blossoms of pink would come to his cheeks. He was always unguarded too, looking so soft and content wrapped up in their sheets. How could Keith possibly keep the compliments from spilling out of him when Lance looked at him like that? 

Complimenting became easier the longer Keith was with Lance. He figured that the only reason he found himself wanting to be more open was because of Lance anyway. No one else had ever challenged him the way Lance did. He liked to think Lance brought out the best in him, made him want to try and better himself. It was a good thing, he thought.

Eventually, he was sure that even something as simple as complimenting Lance would become easier to him. As easy as breathing, maybe, like it was for Lance. He could envision the person he wanted to grow into – the one who told Lance how beautiful he was without thinking, the one who was unafraid to ask for affection around others, the one who wasn’t afraid to say what he was thinking. 

Perhaps he was over thinking it, but he really did like the way Lance reacted to compliments. He always looked so surprised, like he didn’t know he was stunning. That was partially why Keith wanted to become more comfortable with speaking his thoughts. Lance deserved the best the world had to offer him, and if that was Keith himself, then he would make sure that Lance knew just how wonderful he was.

It was the truth, after all.


	92. Lance/Shiro - Maybe

Shiro held his hands behind his back as he waited for his new employer to come greet him. It was an exercise in patience, since it seemed the socialite who had hired him wasn’t in the mood to do any greeting. 

He supposed that this was just the nature of the job. He worked as a bodyguard, and that meant he was basically a live-in shield for his clients. For the majority of his current career, he’d been working with a woman named Allura – someone he knew before he got into the business. She was a dear friend of his, and happened to be the daughter of a wealthy, well-known man named Alfor. Her family owned the Altea Company, which worked in environmental research, conversation, and preservation. 

They were quite well-liked by most reasonable people and by most communities for all the charity work they did, but their oppositions – mining companies, oil companies, those sorts of businesses – didn’t, hence the need for a bodyguard. It was actually Allura who suggested he get the training for a security job after his accident. He couldn’t pilot anymore, but why not put his need to serve to use? And he got to be around her more often, which helped him recover a lot.

It was actually Allura who got him most of his jobs. She was his main client, but when she wasn’t in need of him, she recommended him to others. He’d worked for other employees at Altea, like Allura’s publicity manager Romelle. It was rare he worked for socialites outside of Altea’s influence, mostly because people with that much money rarely had the same kind disposition as Allura’s employees. When he’d gotten work independently, his clients had been stuck-up and rude, and treated him like a cleaner. 

He wasn’t sure what to make of his newest client, but his lateness certainly wasn’t helping. Shiro had been waiting in the entrance foyer of his client’s extravagant house for a while now. 

Eventually, a figure appeared on the upper balcony. His client was a man named Lance. He worked as a model and as a spokesperson for ocean conservation, which was how Allura knew him. She only had positive things to say about Lance, but lately she’d seemed concerned about his wellbeing. It was why she was lending Shiro to him.

Lance wandered down the stairs, looking like he was going to fall asleep at any moment. He was a far cry from the polished photos he did for magazines – his hair was a bird’s nest, there were shadows under his eyes, and he was dressed in a robe that wanted to fall off of him. He looked thoroughly exhausted.

“Nice to meet you,” Shiro said, offering his hand.

Lance shook it. His grip was weak. “Sorry I’m late. Shirogane, right?”

“Just Shiro is fine.”

Lance gave him a wane smile, one that had Shiro a little worried. “Shiro, then.”

 

It took Shiro a week to realise that something was wrong with Lance. He wandered around his house like a ghost, wrapped in a thin robe, his feet in slippers. He was always exhausted, and half the time, hardly seemed to notice when Shiro was around. Sometimes he’d startle when Shiro brought him food – it wasn’t his job, but it only took him a couple of hours to realise that Lance never ventured into the kitchen by himself.

As much as Lance could be distant, he wasn’t rude. He treated Shiro with respect and never asked too much of him, even though he could’ve. He seemed to brighten a little when Shiro was around, but retreated back into himself when he was left to his own devices.

Despite that, he was a completely different person when he stepped outside. It was like night and day. The cameras only ever saw his best smiles, and he was always polite to all of his fans and his business partners. He was truly passionate about ocean preservations, but that was the only time he had any real energy. Even his modelling jobs seemed to drag on his spirit.

It worried Shiro. It worried Allura too, when he shared his concerns with her.

“Maybe you can figure out what’s getting him down,” Allura suggested, her tone light and careful. “He won’t talk to me about it.”

“I can try,” Shiro said.

For the most part, he found he got along with Lance quite well. He was a very interesting person, and the times when his vibrant personality shone through really intrigued Shiro. He had an attractive charm to him.

After a couple of weeks of working with him, Shiro found that Lance had started to seek him out more often. He’d pad out of his study to watch Shiro cook, or join him in the lounge room where they’d play cards or board games. He could get remarkably spirited when it came to a game of Go Fish. 

Shiro liked it when they got to spend time together. It was better than when he was fighting off crowds to get Lance into a venue, or waiting outside of a meeting room for hours while Lance sat through talks with his employees and colleagues. Spending time with him one-on-one was nicer, and Lance seemed to like it more.

It was that thought that got Shiro thinking. When Lance was too tired to get up, or was late in coming to greet him, Shiro would wander around his house in search of something to do. Lance had dozens of photos of his family up, and he looked happy in each photo he was in. He seemed to have a large family, with several siblings and smiling parents and warm grandparents. Like when he was around Shiro, Lance seemed happiest when he was with his family.

His job wouldn’t let him go home often, Shiro thought. He knew that Lance called his family often, but there was only so much comfort someone could get through the phone. Even if it took him a few weeks of being by Lance’s side to notice, he eventually realised what the problem was.

Lance was homesick. 

Shiro could sympathise with that. He missed his family too, and could understand how work kept Lance away from his relatives. He had to put on such an act when he was out in public, and it must have been torturing him on the inside. If there was any chance of his family watching him, or keeping up with his media appearances, then he wouldn’t want them to worry about him.

But his close friends had probably noticed. Allura had, for one. Shiro had, too. Lance was trying to be strong, but it was wearing on him. But it wasn’t like Shiro could directly confront it about him. Even if they were closer now, he knew Lance would force a smile at him, and tell him he was okay when he clearly wasn’t. 

He supposed it was a delicate topic, and would need delicate handling. He didn’t want to impose on Lance too much, but every time they’d spoken about something personal, Lance hadn’t seemed to mind. He didn’t want Lance to continue to suffer, to continue to feel so lonely, so he started off his plan to cheer Lance up with something small.

“My mother used to cook this for breakfast every Sunday morning,” he explained one weekend, when Lance was slumped at the kitchen bench, watching him cook. Lance always insisted that he didn’t have to, but Shiro enjoyed it. Lance’s kitchen was huge. “It’s a traditional Japanese breakfast.”

Lance picked his head up, looking interested. “What’s in it?”

“White rice with broth poured over it, topped with flaked salmon, pickled plums and a bit of shiso.” Shiro turned to Lance and slid a steaming cup towards him. “I made traditional green tea, too.” Buying all the ingredients for a meal like this had been a bit expensive, but the look on Lance’s face made it worth it.

“It smells good,” Lance said.

Shiro flashed a smile at him before turning back to cooking. “Thanks. My mother was always teaching me a lot of traditional stuff. She grew up in Japan, and we went back several times to visit family there.”

“Can you speak Japanese?”

“Yes, fairly well. My grandparents can’t speak English so I continued learning it past my childhood so I could talk with them.”

Lance smiled too. “That’s sweet of you.”

Talking about Shiro’s own family seemed to relax Lance. Shiro was more than happy to chatter about his childhood, and his parents. He was an only child, so he was quite close to his them. The good thing was that talking about his life encouraged Lance to do the same. 

Soon Lance was talking freely about his siblings, about all the crazy things they got up to when they were kids. It wasn’t just that morning that he opened up – it was more often in general, like he’d realised that he could fill the silence of his house by talking about the people he loved because there was finally someone always around to listen. And Shiro made sure he was around as often as he could be. He showed up some days when he wasn’t even meant to be working. He was nervous the first time he did that, but he brought food, so Lance didn’t turn him away (he had a feeling Lance wouldn’t have even if he hadn’t brought them something to eat).

Shiro eventually started asking about Lance’s family more. He’d pick up one of the photo frames Lance kept around his home and give Lance a questioning, hopeful look. Lance always seemed embarrassed to talk about his family, but that never stopped him. He seemed happier when he was talking about his family. 

“You miss them a lot, huh?” Shiro asked one evening, as they sat on the floor in the lounge room, the coffee table and a board game stretched between them.

“Yeah,” Lance admitted, after a hesitant moment. “I don’t get to see them much, you know? And I’ve always been around my siblings.”

“You’re the youngest, right?”

“Yeah.” A private smile twitched at the corner of Lance’s lips. “I’m the baby of the family.”

“You seem happier when you talk about them.”

“Do I?” Lance asked, voice airy. 

Shiro gave him a knowing, amused look, and Lance flushed. He was clearly interested in what Shiro had to say, but didn’t want to appear so. “You miss them,” he repeated.

“I do.”

“Why don’t you visit them more often?”

Lance gave him a helpless little shrug, his fingers toying with one of the game pieces on the table. “It’s hard to find time with my schedule,” he said, despondent. “And I feel like if I go home, I won’t want to come back here.”

Shiro’s heart squeezed. “It’s okay if you feel that way, Lance,” he said. “Your family obviously means a lot to you, and its okay to miss them.”

For a moment, Lance was silent. “You know, no one’s ever really said that to me before.”

Shiro gave him a small smile. “Well, I’m telling you now.”

Lance laughed quietly. “You’re something else, Takashi Shirogane.”

“Am I, now?”

“Yes, definitely.”

“A good something?”

“Yes,” Lance said, laughing again. “I’m glad Allura sent you my way.”

“I’m glad she did too,” Shiro confessed, cheeks warm. 

Lance grinned at him. “You’re going all red.”

“I am not.”

“Liar. You’re not so tough on the inside, huh? You’re just a big softie.”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe, he says.”

Shiro grinned, too. It was nice to see Lance so jovial and carefree. It was easy to see that he was a naturally goofy guy, and when he was comfortable, jokes and puns rolled off of him. Shiro hated to think that Lance could ever be anything but his happiest, most confident self.

Since he’d starting coming to Lance’s house outside of work, he’d come to terms with the fact that he liked Lance more than he should have. And since Lance never turned him away, he was starting to think that maybe Lance liked him, too. The way Lance smiled at him did crazy things to his heart, and he knew he couldn’t keep that out of his expression. 

“You know, I think my family would like you,” Lance said.

“Yeah?”

“Maybe I should go visit soon… if you’ll come with me? If you don’t mind?”

“Not at all,” Shiro said, surprised and flattered by the offer. “Sounds like a good vacation.”

Lance’s grin was blinding. “It’s a plan, then!”


	93. Lance/Lotor - Façade

It had been a long time since Lotor found himself the centre of attention of someone worth his time. His position garnered him a lot of attention, not all of it positive. He was the only son of an infamous business tycoon, fated to take over the lucrative business whether he wanted to or not.

And he didn’t, for the record. He had his own aspirations, but running his father’s business would act as a good starting point, so he never protested taking on the role. The position didn’t do much for his social reputation, but that was of little consequence to him. After all, not many treated him with the respect his position deserved anyway, solely because he was an omega. His father’s business partners all believed in the degrading stereotype that omegas were only good for cooking and breeding.

He supposed it didn’t help that he wasn’t particularly… omega-ish, in the physical sense. The stereotypical omega was slight and petite, with soft features and a welcoming demeanour. They were motherly, sweet-scented, and more passive than aggressive. He was none of those things, least of all passive. Not only was he tall in stature, with broad shoulders and angular features, but his attitude was coarse at best, and he wasn’t very sweet, not his scent nor his words.

Sometimes he thought it was no wonder he had no mate at his age, when most omegas had found a partner. Of course, that probably also had something to do with the fact that he’d never been particularly interested in finding a mate. He’d always been concentrated on schooling, and on fighting his way through the political world of his father’s business. He had no time for courting or children when he was so intensely focused on his education and career. For a long time, he’d actually considered such things nonsense.

However, those thoughts had changed recently, mostly due to the introduction of a new personal intern at the company. He went through them frequently, or rather, they didn’t last long in the high-pressure, high-demand workplace. A person had to be very resilient to survive in the cut-throat world Lotor’s father had created.

But this new one… there was something intriguing about him. Lotor noticed his scent before he caught sight of him – definitely alpha, but without the pungent musk most alphas at the company tended to exude. This alpha smelt almost clean in comparison. His scent carried the same sharp freshness that the ocean did, and it was surprising enough to make Lotor’s thoughts momentarily pause.

Seeing him for the first time produced the same effect. The alpha was shorter than Lotor, his shoulders just slightly narrower. He had a very pointed face, but in an attractive way – his chin was delicately curved, as was his nose, and his brows were sharp, giving him a very expressive look. His hair was brown, as was his skin, but his eyes were truly quite stunning – an unusual blue, considering the rest of his colouring. Lotor was intrigued.

The alpha introduced himself as Lance McClain, and he was Lotor’s new intern. More of a personal assistant, really, when it came down to it. Lance followed Lotor around with a clipboard and planner clutched in his arms and a pen behind his ear. He took notes during meetings, organised Lotor’s schedule, and sorted through which calls needed paging through to Lotor’s office or not. Since Lotor was always moving, always working, he needed an assistant who could keep up with him, who was firm-handed enough to do work that would take some of the burden off of Lotor’s shoulders.

And Lance proved himself to be just that.

He was far more ruthless than his fair features hinted. He wasn’t exactly aggressive, not in the way Lotor was accustomed to alphas being. And he wasn’t derogatory, as many alphas that had come before him had been, and still were. Rather he was direct, and he was confident. He didn’t let anyone talk over him, or tell him what to do.

More importantly, he didn’t let anyone tell Lotor what to do.

That was the most surprising part, Lotor thought. It wasn’t uncommon for Lotor to receive unfair treatment because of his status as an omega, but he was used to it. He’d figured out ways to get back at those who slighted him – he could be quite cruel if he wanted to be, which he often did. But, as he soon realised, Lance didn’t want to stand for those slights.

“I don’t think Lotor was finished speaking,” Lance said during one meeting, interrupting the older man who had just interrupted Lotor. That sort of talking over one another – or, specially, talking over Lotor – wasn’t unusual. All the important people in the company were hired by his father, and therefore thought like his father. 

When silence rang over the meeting room, Lance glanced up from his tablet, where he’d been taking notes.

He didn’t look intimidated at all when he perked a brow and clarified, “My notes will be incomplete.”

Lotor was oddly pleased by the pretty alpha’s defence of him. It wasn’t the first time something like that had happened, and it wasn’t the last, either. Lance could put on a rather intimidating face when he wanted to. He never overstepped his boundaries, or made Lotor out to be some damsel in distress. Rather, he simply didn’t let anyone underestimate Lotor, or treat him without the respect he deserved.

Lance’s time as Lotor’s intern quickly surpassed every other that Lotor had hired. Soon Lance was less of an intern and more of a permanent employee, one that Lotor swiftly came to value. It was rare to find someone like Lance, he thought. Someone who not only treated Lotor with respect, but didn’t put up with others not doing the same. Not to mention Lance was loyal to a fault. It took him some time to warm to Lotor, but when he did, he never strayed. Lotor found that quite attractive in an alpha.

Figuring out that he was attracted to Lance was quite the surprise. Lotor could appreciate his appearance, because he was quite handsome, but that had never been enough for him. He’d dated, but nothing ever lasted. No one ever kept him on his toes.

But Lance did.

It was maddening, in some ways. He was always around the alpha, and thus, he was always thinking about him, too. The more Lotor came to know him, the more attracted he was to him. Lance was quite comfortable with him after working for him for several months, so that only worsened Lotor’s problem. How could he convince himself not to like the alpha when Lance gave him such encouraging smiles? When he teased, when he treated Lotor like any other person?

He felt like it was so omega of him to fall for an alpha like Lance, one who flashed smiles at anyone who caught his eye, who had lines prepared for almost any social occasion. He just couldn’t help but feel like Lance acted differently around him, and not because he was Lance’s boss. It soon became more than just Lance making sure others respected Lotor as a professional. He’d memorised Lotor’s coffee order, and knew exactly when to order Lotor’s lunch, and became an expert at diverting Lotor’s father’s oppressive phone calls because he knew Lotor despised them.

Not only that, but he was always so attentive to Lotor’s needs. Lotor knew his scent was subtle – that was something he made happen on purpose – but even as subtle as it was, Lance could read it with no problems. If he sensed Lotor developing a headache, he’d slide medicine across his desk for him. If he caught a whiff of annoyance on Lotor’s scent, he’d clear his schedule of any provoking meetings. 

Lotor had never felt so thoroughly cared for.

And he rather liked it.

He supposed that his conflict over the situation was distracting him. He found himself wanting Lance’s attention, but unsure if he deserved it, or if he even deserved to want it. Surely an alpha like Lance would have no trouble choosing any partner he wanted. If anyone took a moment to look past his sometimes goofy attitude they’d definitely see an alpha worth pursuing.

Who was to say that Lotor was Lance’s type in the first place? Most alphas didn’t want an omega bigger than them. Not to mention he was Lance’s boss, too. It wasn’t like workplace relationships were forbidden, but dating the omega set to inherit the business was daunting.

As it turned out, he had nothing to worry about. Lance continued to surprise him.

The incident happened one afternoon, when Lotor was not feeling his best. He felt like there was lava sloshing around in his belly. No matter how high he turned on the air conditioning, it did nothing to help. He almost felt like he was going into heat, but he was on firm suppressants, so it couldn’t be that. 

He’d read about some omegas experiencing a pseudo-heat, sometimes called a façade heat, where their bodies exhibited symptoms of the heat without actually entering it. That happened when an omega’s hormones or pheromones were tipped out of balance enough to cause a noticeable different in their bodies. He wondered if his close proximity to an alpha he found appealing was causing it.

Nevertheless, it was a problem. He’d had Lance cancel all of his meetings, and he hadn’t taken his usual lunch break. If he ate anything, he was sure he wouldn’t be able to keep it down.

Of course, Lance noticed. He always noticed Lotor’s moods. Mid-afternoon, he let himself into Lotor’s office, looking concerned.

“Are you feeling alright?”

Lotor waved a hand. He hadn’t been able to focus all afternoon. His head was spinning.

“You look sick,” Lance came, setting his planner down on the edge of the table to come around to Lotor’s side. “Let me feel your forehead.”

Lotor let out a surprised hum as Lance’s palm pressed against his face. He would never let anyone else touch him like that, but he didn’t feel guarded around Lance.

“You’re burning up,” Lance fretted. 

“I’m fine,” Lotor lied, as he pushed back from his desk to stand. The moment he was upright he swayed, his vision spinning. He didn’t realise his knees had buckled until he was being caught by Lance seconds before he hit the floor.

Lance let out a worried rumble, propping Lotor against his knee as he crouched down beside him. He had one hand cradling the back of Lotor’s head, and Lotor was sure he’d never felt such a sweet gesture.

“I’m fine,” he repeated.

“You’re clearly not,” Lance argued. He sniffed the air, and a frown twisted at his lips. His cheeks had gone a little red. “You smell… you’re…”

“I’m on suppressants,” Lotor said, defensive.

“I know.” Lance’s tone wasn’t judging. “Is it stress?”

“Something like that,” Lotor muttered. Stress was another cause of a façade heat, but that wasn’t it. 

Lance’s scent bloomed with something protective, the kind of scent an alpha made when their mate was in danger. Lotor made a surprised, omega noise, a sort of little purr that he hardly ever made, surprising the both of them. Almost instantly mortification flooded Lance’s scent.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t– I don’t mean to impose–” 

“Its fine,” Lotor interrupted, one hand coming up to grasp at Lance’s shirt. He couldn’t meet Lance’s eyes. He was sure his cheeks were red. 

“It is?” Lance whispered.

Lotor nodded, the movement short and sharp. Embarrassed.

Lance’s hand fluttered by Lotor’s hair, gently stroking it flat. “Okay,” he said. “Okay.” 

Neither one of them said anything for a moment. Then Lance cleared his throat.

“I think you should go home early,” he said.

“Agreed.”

“Do you…?”

“Yes, help me,” Lotor said. He’d never asked anyone for help before – his father taught him it was a sign of weakness – but asking Lotor didn’t feel that way. He was rather comforted, actually, when Lance helped him stand, and gathered his coat for him.

“I’ll cancel the rest of your day,” Lance said, as he took Lotor by the elbow to guide him from the office, grabbing his own things on the way out. There was a private elevator they could take down, which they did, so that Lotor wasn’t seen by his other employees looking like he was ready to faint at any second. Lance shook out his coat and helped him into it. “Here, put this on. It’s old outside.”

“Thank you,” Lotor murmured.

Lance flashed him an award-winning smile. His cheeks were still flushed, and Lotor found it oddly charming. 

“You’re unusual,” he said, before he could think better of it.

Lance’s eyebrows shot up.

“I like your attitude,” Lotor clarified. He paused, then added, “And I like the way you treat me.” From him, it was as much of a confession as he could muster. There were plenty of other things he liked about Lance, but right then, they seemed like the most important. He didn’t want Lance thinking he liked him for any bad reasons. 

He liked Lance because Lance was Lance, as silly as that sounded. 

Lance went red at his words, and it made Lotor smirk a little. He liked flustering the alpha.

“You’ll accompany me home,” he said, ignoring Lance’s increasingly reddening face. “I’m sure I’ll collapse at any moment.”

Lance snorted, amused. “You’ve never needed my protection, not like that.”

“No, but maybe I want it.” And maybe he did. It didn’t matter if he was strong enough on his own. Having Lance’s attention made him feel… special.

Lance smiled at him, eyes sparkling. “Guess I have no choice then, huh?”


	94. Keith/Lance - Lily

The gentle lull of cool, rippling water soothed Lance’s mind as he waded through the lily pad field. It was a sunny day, but the tall trees surrounding the fields offered almost compete shade from corner to corner. Their weeping leaves stretched in the air, light enough that even a slight breeze could carry them. They tangled above the stretch of the fields to form an overhead canopy. Sunlight streaked through to make glowing freckles on the water’s surface.

“How’s it going?” a voice called across the way.

Lance lifted his head, eyes scanning the short stone walls that boxed in the lily pads. “All clear,” he answered, lifting his fingers to his forehead, then up into the air to signal that everything was clean. Luis, his older brother, nodded, and moved to the next field. Lance watched him as he called out the same question to Lance’s sister, Rachel, who returned the same gesture from her field. The lily pads were healthy this year, and it was a great relief.

With the lilies checked on, Lance waded towards the stone boundary wall, and stepped up onto it. The stones were smooth beneath his bare feet. Luis and Rachel join him, and for a moment, they surveyed the lily pad fields stretched out around them.

Their parents had started off with one field, the one closest to their house, a row over. With the birth of each of their five children, they’d added another field, making two asymmetrical rows of equally sized fields – two on one row, three on the other, with the first field connected but slightly adjacent. It was marvellous to look at, really. The exterior of all the fields were lined with trees, so each was covered by the canopy of entangled leaves above.

The previous year, a violent sea storm had covered the fields in salt water. They lived by the sea, but the water the lilies thrived in was fresh water, and couldn’t withstand more than a normal amount of salt spray. The lilies had wilted in the brackish water, and they hadn’t been able to harvest them come autumn. 

But this year, things were better. No storms had ravaged this side of the coast, and any sign of rain had had his family out by the cliff face, fending off the resulting waves. Their precious lily pads were safe, and almost ready for harvest. As one of the most important exports of the territory, it was vital that this year’s harvest make up for last year’s misfortune. 

The lily pads were quite a valuable resource. Once thought to be nothing but a pretty plant, they turned out to be rich in medicinal nutrients. The stems, the pads themselves, and even the roots could be grinded into healing herbs, infused into medicinal teas, and mulled into an extremely potent healing salve. Not to mention, breaking open a pad and smearing the liquid inside it on one’s skin prevented the skin from wrinkling when exposed to water for too long.

“Do you want me to check Veronica’s field?” Lance asked, glancing up at Luis. His other sister was holed up inside ill, so her field hadn’t been checked over for impurities. Lance’s eldest brother, Marco, was caring for her while their parents were away, leaving Luis, the second eldest, to watch over the fields. Luis had checked Marco’s field, but Lance felt bad making him do the majority of the work.

Luis rubbed a hand through Lance’s hair, ignoring the way Lance batted at him. “Sure, little brother. Tell me how it goes.”

Huffing, Lance finally ducked out of the way of his brother’s teasing gesture, and ventured over towards the last field as his siblings made their way back to the house.

The last field was the one that was furthest away. Lance followed the stone wall to get there, and then stepped down into the knee-height water. Like always, the lily pads crowded the surface, green and wide and soft to the touch. He walked through the field, pushing apart the pads, running his fingers down the stems, looking for any disturbances or pock marks that could indicate a blight.

He found none, but when he reached the edge of the field, something caught his attention. It wasn’t anything in the water – no, the lilies were perfectly fine, much to his pleasure. There was something on the outer side of the wall that caught his eye, something he only saw when he came close enough to it.

Someone was slumped against the wall, their head bowed. Lance had never seen the man before, but he looked injured – he was clutching at his side, and looked flushed with fever. He was wearing the typical robes of a fire mage, a type of magic user very rarely seen in this part of the territory. 

“Are you alright?” Lance asked, hesitant.

The sound of his voice made the stranger flinch, his entire body tensing, every line going rigid and defensive. His face was hidden – turned away, his chin tucked into his chest. Lance wondered if he spoke the same language. When he caught a glimpse of the man’s eyes through his hair, Lance touched his right hand’s fingertips to the front of his left shoulder, tapping several times.

“Okay?” he repeated. The gesture was one almost universally known.

The man seemed to unfurl after a moment, when he realised Lance posed no threat. When he revealed his face, Lance let out a gasp. There was a scar going up his right cheek, and while it didn’t look new, it looked like it must have hurt. Worse, however, was the blackened bruise on his jawbone, and the gash across his lip. It was red and raw. No wonder he couldn’t speak.

Still, he tried. He made the same gesture as Lance but instead of tapping his fingers, flattened them and made a slashing gesture. Not okay.

“Do you understand me?” Lance asked.

A nod.

“Alright.” Lance snagged one of the smaller pads by his knee and tore it free. “Tilt your head towards me.”

The man hesitated, but eventually complied. Lance snapped open the thick pad and gently pressed the oozing, open end to the man’s face, letting the liquid inside seep into his skin. Almost instantly relief flooded the man’s face, and he let out a relieved groan. The cut on his lip began to recede, the redness fading.

“It won’t fix it completely,” Lance said, as he shifted the pad around to a clean bit. “But it’ll take the soreness out. Can you talk now?”

“Yeah,” the man said, voice croaky. “Thanks.”

Lance offered him a small smile. “What happened to you?”

The man lowered his violet eyes. “I left the army,” he said bitterly. 

Lance’s eyebrows went up. He knew laws in the fire territories were strict, and that there were enforced years of conscription in the army when a citizen reached maturation. “I thought you had to finish your conscription years,” he said, because it was clear from looking at the man’s face that he was young enough to still be enlisted.

“I just did,” he said, “but apparently, I impressed them, and they wanted me to re-enlist.”

“And you don’t want to?”

“No,” he spat. “I don’t stand for the same values. I don’t believe in war for the sake of it.”

“I’ll admit, I don’t know much… about politics, or anything,” Lance admitted, “but you can stay here for a while, if you like.”

A worried look furrowed the man’s brow, like he couldn’t quite believe it. Lance just gave him a wane smile. Even if he knew little about the political sphere in the fire territories, he knew plenty about the state of his home, and about the sheer amount of refugees they were taking in. There was unrest in the fire territories, and the surrounding nations – water and earth – were taking in as many refugees as they could. 

Lance’s parents were sure there was going to be an upheaval in the fire government soon, but until then, there was nothing but often-violent conflict. He heard his parents’ concerned whispers when he wasn’t meant to, and knew they worried about this year’s harvest. Now more than ever the medical supplies were needed, they said. 

“Are you sure?” the man eventually whispered, all of a sudden sounding weak and frightened. 

Lance offered his hand. “Of course. If you tell me your name.”

“Keith,” the man said, as he took Lance’s hand. His grip had a pleading edge to it, and Lance couldn’t help but hold on a little tighter – to keep the man steady, and to comfort him. “Yours?”

“Lance.” He urged the man over the short wall and into the lily pad field, so they could take a direct path back to the house, and so that the waters could help cool Keith off. “Let’s take you inside.”

Keith didn’t let go of his hand as they made their way inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a sort of mix of ideas from a personal story I've been thinking about, so it was fun to explore the setting with these characters haha


	95. Keith/Lance/Shiro - Third

A chilly breeze ruffled Lance’s wings. He shivered, and pulled them in tighter around his shoulders, tilted slightly away from his back so that the tips didn’t drag along the snowy ground. Winter had arrived, and he wasn’t very happy about it. He’d only had a little time to prepare his nest, so it wasn’t in the best upkeep. At least he’d gathered enough food to last the coming cold months.

Speaking of which, he was currently making his way through the marketplace in the nearby square. Avians came from their nests all over the mountainside to the market, wading through its stalls where everything from precious wares to fruit and food supplies were kept in neat rows. Lance always found the market to be a peaceful place, even if it was crowded. The muffled noise of conversations, the chatter of children playing, the hushed murmur of feathers shifting as wings moved – it was familiar and unfamiliar at the same time, and Lance enjoyed it.

Most avians his age lived alone. They were reaching the age of maturity, and needed the isolation to find a mate. Being alone sharpened their instincts, and made the need for family a sore one. In general, most avians experienced one of two instincts when they reached Lance’s age: the need to nest, like Lance did, or the need to fly, which resulted in the avian travelling from settlement to settlement until they found their mate. 

And until Lance’s found him, he was staying put. Half of his siblings had been the same as him, though the other half had taken off in search of their mates. His eldest brother had been the first to find his mate, where she’d been nesting in a nearby settlement. Last Lance had heard, his eldest sister, Veronica, had also gained a mate – she’d nested like Lance, not too far from him actually, and her mate had found her. Apparently Veronica’s mate had been flying for years searching for her, before her wings had finally given out right above Veronica’s nest. It was destined.

Lance could only hope that his mate found him soon. He’d gone through one winter alone now, and not only was it tiresome, but it was cold and lonely, too. There was this superstition that many nesters believed in, that if they felt a deep satisfaction with the state of their nest, their mate would be more encouraged to find them. Lance wasn’t sure if he believed in that, but he built his nest to the best of his abilities, and waited to see if this would be the season that his mate appeared.

After buying what he needed at the market, he began the trek home. He didn’t live too far away, only about a ten minute flight, but he decided to walk instead. It was twice as long to walk, but he didn’t mind, even if it was cold. It was quiet, and gave him time to think.

Like most avians, he’d built his nest up off the ground. The trees they built their nests in were impossibly tall, with trunks so wide one would have to stand at least twenty feet back to see around it. The branches were sturdy, and hardly ever broke. Most were easy to carve into, so homes were created within the trunks, and the branches thus used as an entrance path or front patio.

Last winter, his nest had been a work in progress. By that time he’d hollowed out the tree and made space for a living area, a small kitchen, and a spacious bedroom within the trunk, high up off the ground. He’d bought some blankets and made some for himself to pad his nest, but it hadn’t been complete. This year it was.

His kitchen was fully decorated, with plants growing along the window he’d made on the side of the trunk. He’d fitted the entrance of his nest with a hanging sheet of interwoven vines to keep the cold out, and for privacy. There were cushions at the low table to sit on while he ate, as well as in his nest, which he’d made much larger than he probably should have. Some instinct had told him to keep building it, even when by normal standards it was already large, so he’d kept going. Now it was piled high with blankets and soft pillows, all on top of a rug to keep the cold from seeping through the floor. 

After setting his groceries on the table, he threw himself down into his nest and let out a long sigh. He stretched his wings above him, hard enough to make his feathers quiver, before letting them fall limp. He had thin feathers, so it wasn’t wise for him to fly when it was super cold outside, or if it was snowing. Ice would build up on the feathers if he did.

Rolling over, he buried his face in his pillows, and let his eyes drift shut. Perhaps this winter would be too cold to fly outside. The thought was disappointing.

 

Halfway through the night, something woke him. For a moment he thought it had started snowing outside again, which meant he’d have to add another blanket over the entrance, but it wasn’t that. 

There was someone outside.

Concern filled him. He pushed himself upright, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dark as he watched the person part the vines. A head peered in, and curious, cautious eyes met Lance’s. The avian was dark-haired and dark-feathered. He flashed his wings when he met Lance’s gaze, and then looked a little embarrassed by himself.

Something warm stirred in the pit of Lance’s stomach. Something good.

 

The avian’s name was Keith, and he was Lance’s mate. He’d flown a long distance, and came from a small family, and he really liked Lance’s nest. “It’s warm,” he said, when he noticed Lance waiting for his opinion. “Like a home.”

Of course, the actual nest itself was the best part. Keith’s wings were cold from flying, so Lance helped warm them up, and gave him a blanket to bundle into. He and Keith were both tired, so that first night they just slept, not waking up until noon the next day. It was strange how quickly Lance became accustomed to Keith’s presence. There was no doubt in his mind that they were mates.

It took a few weeks to settle into a rhythm, to learn each other’s strengths and weaknesses. Lance was a good cook, but Keith wasn’t, so Lance did most of the cooking. Keith’s feathers were quite thick, so when it became too cold to fly, he would be the one to venture to the market to gather supplies. Lance was good at grooming, so he kept their feathers neat and tidy. Keith was good with fire, so he build a tree-safe fireplace out of stone in the nest, one that would keep them warm for the rest of winter.

Having his mate around filled Lance with a sense of completion that he hadn’t ever felt before.

But something was… missing. 

Luckily for him, Keith felt the same.

It was brought up when they were lying in Lance’s nest. Even with their wings comfortably spread, there was still plenty of room available. 

“You built your nest quite large,” Keith said hesitantly, as he tucked one of his wings over Lance. 

“Something kept urging me to make it bigger,” Lance admitted. Come to think of it, there was room enough for another person, their wings and all. It wasn’t unheard of for an avian to have more than one mate, but Lance wasn’t sure if he was that lucky. 

But it seemed like Keith had the same thoughts. “It’s not as strong as before, but… I still have an urge to fly.”

“You do?”

Keith nodded. “I didn’t want to say anything because I have you, and you’re enough.” They were oddly emotional words from Keith, who Lance had learned was not a very openly emotional person. 

“But you think there’s another?” Lance asked.

Keith hesitated again, then nodded. He looked painfully worried, like he thought Lance would be upset at his confession.

Lance wasn’t. “I think so too,” he whispered.

Keith’s eyebrows went up in surprise. 

“It would explain why I made this nest so big,” he said. 

He wondered if there was a third. It was a thought that constantly plagued both him and Keith in the coming weeks. They grew much closer, their bond strengthening, and it made Lance worry that if there was a third, then it would be difficult to bond with them, too. Lance was naturally a nurturing person, and he worried about it all.

Then, one night, in much the same way Keith had arrived, something woke them. Keith put his wing out in front of Lance as they stood from the nest, keeping Lance tucked behind him. Lance stared anxiously at the entrance, waiting for the curtain to part, but it never did.

“Is someone out there?” he whispered to Keith.

Keith gave him a sharp nod, his posture tense. Together they edged towards the entrance, Keith first, then Lance. When they parted the curtain, a dark, snowy world sat on the other side. Every morning and usually at sunset too they had to clear a thick layer of snow off the tree branch. From sunset to the time they’d woken halfway through the night, a new layer of snow had appeared, and clinging to the branch beneath it all was an avian.

Lance’s heart lurched as he took in the sight before him. The avian was clinging to the edge of the branch, half-buried in snow, his wings spread out to either side. His feathers were coloured with black and white speckles, but his hair was as white as the snow around him, and there was a terrible scar across his nose. He looked exhausted, his eyes closed.

“We need to bring him inside,” Lance said.

Keith nodded. Together they heaved the larger man inside and set him down in the nest. He was shivering, so Keith covered him in blankets while Lance set to grooming his wings, brushing away the snow and frost as he did so.

“How do you feel now?” Lance asked, glancing up at Keith after he was done, when they were sitting in the nest beside the avian. 

“Less restless,” Keith admitted, dropping his cheek down onto the top of Lance’s head. “Like I don’t need to fly anymore.”

Lance hummed. With all three of them, the nest was comfortably full, like it had always meant to be for the three of them. It probably had, come to think of it.

“So there was a third,” Lance sighed, smiling.

Keith just laughed.


	96. Keith/Lance - Sneaking

Lance stuffed several rolls of parchment under his arm, half-squashing them in his rush. He was meant to be in one of the palace’s many studies by now, pouring over the textbooks he’d been given by Coran earlier that month. Of course, he’d read them – because there were some duties even he wouldn’t shirk – but he hadn’t started on the report Coran wanted him to write about what he’d learned. He hadn’t even gone to fetch any ink from the royal storage.

“Prince Lance!” came the familiar, accented voice of Coran. “Do tell me how your essay is going, young man?”

Yelping, Lance whipped around, sending half the parchment flying as he did. He was the only person in the library and the sound carried, making him flush with embarrassment. Coran was standing on one of the upper balconies overlooking the main library floor, staring down at him. He was grinning in that way that meant he knew exactly how much work Lance had done – nothing. 

“You know your father wants you to have your studies completed before you can go ahead and greet the visiting prince,” Coran chastised, his eyebrows raised. “They’ll be arriving any minute now, Prince Lance!”

Lance pouted, giving Coran his most pleading, wide-eyed look. He knew Prince Keith was visiting from his country for a while, and he was desperate to see him. He hadn’t thought the other royals would arrive this early in the day. They were very competitive, he and Keith. A lot of people thought they didn’t get along, that their bickering was unfriendly, but they couldn’t be more wrong.

Perhaps that was how they’d started off, but they weren’t like that anymore. Competitiveness had turned to something else, something pleasant and unnameable. The two of them were more than just friendly.

Not that anyone knew about that.

“I read all the books you assigned,” Lance protested, his voice edging on a whine. “I just haven’t started the report on them. Yet!”

Coran sighed, giving Lance and almost smile. “You read the books? All of them?”

“Yes! You can quiz me on them, if you like.”

“No, it’s alright, I believe you.”

Lance bit his lip, and then hesitantly asked, “So I can go see the prince…?”

Coran sighed again, and rested his chin in his palm as he leaned against the balcony railing. “Alright, Prince Lance. But that essay isn’t going to go away, you’ll have to do it before the month ends!”

A grin spread across Lance’s face. “Thanks, Coran. Don’t tell my father!”

“I won’t.” Coran waved him off, so Lance set all the parchments back down on the table, and fled the library. He’d almost forgotten that Keith was arriving today. It was hard for them to spend quality time together around others, not to mention they lived in different countries. Since neither one of them knew if their parents would agree to a courtship between them, there was a lot of sneaking around involved in their meetings. 

They had it down to a routine now – a lot of unspoken promises that meant they knew exactly when to sneak away and exactly where to meet up. They always tried to find each other before the evening’s festivities and official greetings began, because otherwise they’d have to wait another day or so before they could be alone without anyone thinking anything of it. Finding Keith now was important. He didn’t want to let Keith down.

The hallways on this side of the palace were relatively empty at this time of the day. All the employees were busy in the kitchens, the banquet hall, or in the wing where the visiting royals would be staying. It had taken them some trial and error to figure out where the best place to meet would be, but since this wing was the emptiest, Lance knew Keith would be around somewhere – if he’d managed to slip past his guards.

It took Lance a few heart-racing minutes to find him. Or rather, for Keith to spot him from where he was waiting. There were courtyards dotted along every wing of the palace, and as Lance passed the arched entranceway for one, something had him pausing.

“There you are.” An arm hooked Lance around the waist, pulling him into an alcove just beyond the entranceway. Keith’s grip was familiar and welcome.

“You got here earlier than I expected,” Lance said, twisting around in Keith’s arms to face him. The Prince had a smug look on his face, probably from catching Lance off guard. It was still a handsome look on him.

“We made good time travelling,” Keith explained. “Aren’t you happy to see me?”

Lance rolled his eyes. “You know I am,” he said, pressing just a little bit closer.

Keith smiled, a secret little smile he reserved only for Lance, when they were alone together. He ducked his head to lean his forehead against Lance’s, his eyes closing. “I missed you,” he said.

“I missed you too,” Lance whispered. It had taken a long time for Keith to be comfortable sharing such emotional words with Lance, or to even be affectionate at all, so Lance appreciated every moment of it. Having Keith reciprocate his feelings at all was a reward in of itself. 

“I can’t be away from the guards for long, they’ll notice I’ve gone missing,” Keith said with a frustrated sigh. “But I wanted to see you before the formal greeting tonight.”

Lance nodded his agreement. “I was meant to have written an essay before seeing you but I haven’t even started it,” he admitted with a laugh. “Luckily Coran let me go, though my father doesn’t know yet.”

Keith’s lips quirked up. “Coran is fond of you, he lets you get away with so much. If I hadn’t completed my duties back home, Kolivan wouldn’t have let me step foot out of the palace, let alone the country, to come here.”

“Good thing you completed your duties then,” Lance said.

Keith hummed. He tilted his head forwards and let his lips brush across Lance’s, just lightly, and it made Lance sigh. He wished he could see Keith more often, but that wasn’t an option for them yet. When they were a little older, when the bonds between their countries were a little stronger… then they would tell their respective guardians about them. Then they could be together properly.

But for now, this was enough. Sneaking around and chaste kisses could sustain them for a while. Lance wasn’t complaining.

He’d do anything to see Keith, and he knew Keith felt the same.


	97. Keith/Lance - Tide

Krolia ran her finger down the scaled wings on her son’s back, testing them for strength and warmth. A young fledgling had to stay exceedingly warm to remain healthy, and the quickest way to gauge their temperature was to touch their scales. Like her, Keith had scales under his eyes and up towards his temples, very faintly on the backs of his hands, thicker around the base of his wings, and on the outside of his thighs. He was only a few years old, so the scales were soft and pliable, only just gaining their colours – going from mostly translucent to dark red in places.

At her touch, Keith let out a little rumble, an imitation of the growls he often heard from the older dragons in their flock. “Admirable effort, Keith,” she said, as she pushed apart his wings to trace his scales. A persistent heat radiated off of them, and satisfied, she repositioned his tunic, and then his fur-lined cloak, which kept his wings tucked against his back. It would do no good for a fledgling to try to fly before their wings could handle their weight.

“We go to the sea now?” Keith insisted, turning his impatient, violet eyes up on her. It was a look she’d seen many times in the mirror before, and it made her smirk. 

“So impatient,” she said, though her tone wasn’t chastising. She set him down on the ground and watched him toddle towards the entrance of their home. Most dragons lived in intricate cave systems either within mountains or beneath them, close to mines or volcanic streams. Their rooms were always cavernous, always open and sprawling, giving them enough room to stretch their wings and fly from platform to platform, since their amenities were rarely all located on the ground.

“We go now!” Keith pleaded, clutching fistfuls of his cloak.

“Wait,” she said, sterner. Keith tensed and then pouted, but stayed put as she spread her wings and floated up towards the platform above them, where their food was stored. Their home was one of Krolia’s own design – a fireplace and sitting area greeted those who came in through the entrance, and then above, jutting out of the walls, were rock platforms housing the food storage area and her nest. She liked being up high when she and Keith rested, so that she had a clear view of the entire cavern.

The previous evening she’d prepared a bundle of foods for the journey. There were bread loaves coated in pepper grown from the volcanic slopes of the mountain, wrapped in waxed paper to keep them fresh, and a stoppered carafe full of mulled wine. She’d added an assortment of region-specific foods to the wrapped bundle, like black velvet mushrooms grown deep within the dragon caves, cheeses smoked over local lava streams, and flame-wasp honeycomb chunks, a spicy-sweet treat popular among teething fledglings and adults alike. It was a decent spread by any dragon’s standards.

After slinging the pack over her shoulder, just lower than the joint of her wings, she leapt back down to the ground floor and strode towards the entrance. She snagged her cloak and her child’s hand as they exited, heading towards the mountain entrance. A sloped hallway acted as a main corridor between inhabited caverns, branching off in a dozen different directions, only one of which led out of the mountain.

When they’d exited into the cold light of the morning, she bent to scoop Keith up with one arm, keeping him tucked close against her chest as her wings began to beat. It was a short flight to the ocean side, less than an hour. With a pack and her fledgling, it was a bit tedious to fly there, but she could never deny Keith’s requests. 

After all, she knew how important the sea – or more specifically, one guppy – were becoming to him.

 

The briny air of the sea had never been particularly pleasant to Krolia, but the minute Keith scented salt on the air, he perked up. He knew better than to fidget when she was flying, and managed to contain his excitement until she’d landed, a little ways away from the shoreline. 

A long strip of sun-bleached sand met their eyes as they slowly approached the shore. There was a sandbank a short distance away from where the waves inched up the sand, which meant the water sharply dropped off towards the southern side. A wharf had been built there to allow for fishermen to cast their lines further out to sea, and to drag in boats where they wouldn’t get moored on the sandbank. Today it was empty, as expected.

“There!” Keith pointed, as if Krolia couldn’t see the wharf for herself. Not willing to discourage him, she nodded her assent, and he grinned, as if he’d won a prize.

Since the tide was in, the water had risen so high there was only a foot of space between the surface and the bottom of the wharf. They made their way across the sand towards it, and then onto the creaking boards, out over the sea. Keith shook free of her hand and ran for the edge of the wharf. He crouched down at the end and peered into the water, then let out a surprised rumble.

“Hello, little one,” a familiar, sweet voice said. “Where’s your Mama?”

Keith pointed over his shoulder.

Krolia joined him at the end of the wharf. 

“There you are,” Mrs McClain grinned. She had lifted her torso out of the water, her fingers curled over the edge of the wharf. Her dark hair was knotted on top of her head today, pierced through with a thin length of coral to keep it held tight. Wet strands clung to her friendly face.

“Hello,” Krolia greeted. “Where to today?”

Mrs McClain pointed further south along the coast. “The rock pools, if you don’t mind.”

“That works fine.”

Nodding, Mrs McClain disappeared back beneath the water. The wharf was where they met up to discuss a safe place to meet, somewhere that their conflicting species could both find suitable. The rock pools were Krolia’s preferred place – the stone felt more secure beneath her feet, and the water was always shallow there. 

After scooping Keith back up, she opened her wings and took off towards the rock pools. The flight only lasted a minute or two before she was touching down, keeping a hold on her child as she picked her way across the barnacle-encrusted rocks to find a good place to sit. 

The rock pools here weren’t connected to the coast, but were more like tiny islands dotting the edge beyond the cliff, separated by the roughness of waves over hundreds of years. She eventually found one where there was plenty of room to sit, and had a flat enough surface for her to lay down her pack. She lowered Keith, who immediately slipped his feet in one of the watery pools, and cast her eyes out towards the water surrounding the rock formation. The water was relatively clear, so she saw when Mrs McClain approached, her tail flashing a gem-like amber beneath the surface.

Keith leaned forwards in anticipation, a look of intense concentration on his face.

Mrs McClain breached, shaking water free from her face. She tugged her guppy out of the surface and dunked him in the pool beside Keith, who immediately lit up. Krolia firstly offered her a hand to help her up on the rock, where they settled comfortably, and then they turned their eyes to their children.

Mrs McClain’s child, Lance, was the same age as Keith. He had his mother’s dark hair, but had gotten his fantastic blue eyes and glittering blue scales from his father. Still young, he hadn’t developed his secondary fins yet – not like the lace-like ones jutting out from Mrs McClain’s hips and the joint where her tail met her tailfins. Both mother and son’s skin glinted strangely in the light. Merfolk weren’t suited for life above water, but their skin could adapt, forming a very thin, gel-like layer to keep them hydrated. Merfolk never quite looked dry because of it.

Keith and Lance had met by chance the previous year. Krolia had been on the coast visiting a friend when Keith had found the guppy in the surf. A violent storm had ravaged the coast the previous night, so Krolia hadn’t been surprised that a guppy had been separated from his parents. Keith had been incredibly concerned, as had Krolia; having a child of her own had softened her.

She’d lifted Keith to keep him out of the water, and lifted Lance as well, cradling the tired guppy in her arms. He’d been terribly cold to the touch, so she’d waded out further into the surf despite her discomfort, and kept all of the baby except his head submerged in the sea. She’d cleaned the sand off of his skin and out from the spaces between his scales, back then still soft with infancy. Up almost to her wing-joints in the water, she’d waited and waited, hoping that Lance’s parents would soon find them.

The entire time, Keith had watched over Lance, like he was unsure if his mother’s eyes were enough. He’d been terribly distressed by the sight of the lost guppy, and at first Krolia had thought that that was because he’d realised that sometimes not even a mother’s safe arms could keep them together, but she’d soon realised it was more than that. For whatever reason, her son and the guppy had a bond, one stronger than nature itself. It didn’t matter that Keith was born in fire, and Lance in water – they were connected. 

Of course, a distraught Mrs McClain had eventually sensed her son’s presence in the water. She’d been quite intimidated by Krolia, and Krolia hadn’t blamed her – seeing a large dragon in the water with her tiny guppy certainly couldn’t have been easy. But Mrs McClain had seen Keith, and known Krolia was a mother. She’d seen the way Krolia was gently cradling her son, keeping him submerged in the water, despite her own uneasiness.

From then on, they’d been bonded too. Krolia didn’t easily make friends, and wasn’t a social person, but she considered Mrs McClain to be a close companion. It helped that their sons were so attached to one another.

“How have you been?” Mrs McClain asked, jovial and carefree. “I brought food!”

Krolia presented her own pack, and together they laid out a spread for them to eat. Mrs McClain had brought a variety of her own native food, which she took great joy in explaining.

“These are salted silverfins,” she explained, gesturing to two fish wrapped in wide, green leaves tied together with twine. “They’re raw, but safe to eat – quite crunchy! Oh, and these are springwater berries. They grow in freshwater ponds near our colony.” She gestured firstly to round, white berries, small enough that several could fit in Krolia’s palm, and then to a jar full of pale orange coral chunks and egg-shaped nuts. “These are hard-boiled peachtree coral branches, and tide eggs.”

“Tide eggs?”

Mrs McClain tapped the jar with a fingertip, pointing out the egg-shaped nuts. “They start off as pearls, actually. Edible ones, not the gemstone – they’re sweet. We collect them and then let them roll back and forth along the shore with the tide in these troughs full of sugared sand. The sand clings to the pearl, and when there’s enough, we flash-boil them, and the sand hardens into this shell. Depending on where the tide is, the flavour of the egg will change. These ones were grown in our tropical waters, so they’re sweet.”

Krolia made an interested noise. “I didn’t realise you could use the tide to produce food.”

“Well, we have to get creative, you know. Fish can get a little boring sometimes.”

She flashed a small smile. “I suppose so.”

“Come now, you must explain to me what you’ve brought along this time. It smells wonderful.”

As Krolia explained, their children continued to play. The rock pool was just deep enough for Lance to comfortably splash around in. Keith’s coat was starting to lift up at the back where his wings were twitching. He didn’t exactly express his joy like Lance did – there were no overjoyed giggles or exceedingly bright smiles – but he had other ways of expressing himself. His twitching wings, and his softened look of concentration were good indicators. Krolia was pleased to see him having fun.

“How much longer under he can fly?” Mrs McClain asked, as they shared their food.

“A few more months, perhaps, if he continues to grow as fast as he has,” Krolia said.

Their voices drew the attention of their children. Lance leaned over his mother’s lap, his hands lying flat against her scales. “Mama, what are you eating?” he asked, eyes wide.

She was crunching on a chunk of honeycomb, and offered it to Lance, who took a tentative bite. Krolia knew the flavour was hot, but it was also sweet, and it made Lance grin.

Keith pressed against her side, his eyes focused on the tide egg she’d taken a bite out of. The pearl inside was visible. She offered it to him, holding it to his mouth as he took a bite, taking sugared sand and the pearl into his mouth. She could hear him crunch on it, his eyes widening with surprise.

“Good?” she asked.

“Good,” he agreed.

“I’m glad you like it,” Mrs McClain said, reaching forwards to affectionately tap Keith under the chin.

Keith gave her a little smile.

Krolia felt oddly proud as she put a hand on the back of Keith’s head. She watched his attention gravitate back towards Lance, who was already pushing away from his mother to return to Keith’s side. Neither one of them noticed their differences. Krolia had never seen a bond like theirs, never seen a connection that could span two different species so effortlessly.

She was glad they got along. Lance brought out a more childlike side to Keith that she found pleasing. Everything her son did made her proud, but seeing him happy filled her with a sense of contentment like nothing else ever could. And Lance made him very happy.

She hoped their bond would follow them from childhood to adulthood.


	98. Keith/Lance - Coat

Keith kept his arm tucked tightly over Lance’s shoulders as they made their way through the snow. They were wrapped tightly in thick cloaks, Lance more so than Keith at Keith’s insistence. He was more tolerant to the cold than his omega, and Lance was still recovering from the birth of their daughter almost three months prior. He liked to be strong, but his body was still a little out of sync, and this winter had been hard on him.

He wouldn’t have been outside in this snow if Keith could help it, but there was no other choice. They had to get to Shiro’s house, where their entire pack was gathering. Safety could always be found in numbers, and considering Lance’s fragile state, they needed all the help they could get. Keith hated not being able to protect his mate from harm, but he knew there were some circumstances he couldn’t fight his way through.

He needed his pack’s help, so that was where they were going.

“How much further?” Lance puffed, his breath fogging past chattering teeth. Even with two coats on, Lance was cold. It made Keith tug him closer.

“Not far,” he assured. Normally the pack house was a short walk through the town square, more towards the mountain ridge backing the valley than the seaside, where he and Lance lived. But taking a direct route was a bad idea when poachers were about, so they’d had to follow the edge of the town in a wider circle, and it was taking three times as long to get there.

On a normal, sunny day, that probably wouldn’t have been a problem, but they were more than a foot deep in snow and the sun had long since set. Nothing but the moon lit their way and it was wane at best.

A soft whine came from the bundle held tightly in Lance’s arms. Mariposa’s face was scrunched up, her fingers clenched by her cheeks. Usually Lance’s scent was enough to calm her, but she could likely sense his apprehension, and it was making her nervous. She’d never been out in the cold like this, not at night.

Lance cooed at her, his brow furrowing with worry. They paused by the corner of a building, huddled away in the shadows as Lance tucked the baby’s blanket closer around her. Cold was pinching at her cheeks, making them turn red. It couldn’t have been pleasant for her.

“She’s upset,” Lance whispered, turning his worried eyes to Keith. “I don’t know how much longer she’ll stay quiet.”

“Pass her here,” Keith said, opening his arms. Lance passed the infant over, and Keith cradled her in his arms, carefully tucking her in close to his chest. He pressed his cheek against her forehead, waiting for his body heat to warm her. She snuffled in his neck, fingers grasping at the underside of his chin and at his neck, where his scent was the strongest. 

After a moment, her disgruntled noises stopped, and she settled into his grip. Despite being born during autumn, Keith knew she was going to be a total summer baby, just like Lance was. Warmth comforted her, and the cold frightened her. He was desperate to protect his daughter from that, his instincts demanding that he keep his precious pup healthy and happy.

“Here.” Keith eased Mariposa back down into Lance’s anxious arms, where Lance then tucked her beneath his coat, as away from the cold as he could manage. “We need to keep moving.”

Lance nodded.

Keith turned his thoughts back to the matter at hand. It was rare for poachers to travel this far into the country, since one had to move through the capital to get to the coast unless they wanted to brave the mountain’s treacherous ridges. But poachers could be persistent when there was profit involved, and selling omegas as slaves to countries across the sea was a very profitable business.

Normally, there were guards stationed around town, employed by the Crown. Lately, however, there’d been a lot of uprisings in neighbouring towns, where bandits and poachers had been flitting in the shadows. The threat of the poachers had been hanging over the rural towns of the country for weeks, and it had drained resources expontentionally. Word had come earlier that evening of an impending wave of poachers, so the entire town was on lockdown.

The safest choice was to take his family to their pack house, so that was what he was doing.

Several blocks later, and the house appeared. It didn’t look like anyone was inside, but Keith knew better. He could scent their pack members – all of them, just faintly on the air. After glancing around the street to make sure it was empty, he put his arm around Lance’s waist, and then they darted out into the open.

There was no sound but the crunching of snow beneath their feet. Keith had never felt so on-alert. Knowing that both his mate and child were in danger set every part of him on edge. 

They reached the door in under a minute, which was immediately flung open by Shiro. Keith shuffled Lance inside and helped him take off his outer coat. The house was warm, much warmer than outside, so several layers were no longer needed.

“Did you see anything?” Shiro asked, as he took their coats, hovering protectively over them as they made their way deeper into the familiar reaches of the house. 

“No,” Keith said, “but that isn’t promising.”

Shiro nodded in agreement. He was the leader of their pack, despite not being the only alpha. His instinct to protect was the greatest among the pack.

Like expected, the fireplace was roaring in the den, where everyone had gathered. Pidge and her beta brother were sitting together, and Shiro’s omega mate Cutis was curled up by the fire, cradling his rounded stomach. Allura, Hunk, and Hunk’s mate Shay were talking quietly, with Hunk’s omega daughter – a few years old now – sleeping on his lap. Their pack was all together.

Keith guided Lance to settle by the fire, where he started to warm up. He sat by his omega and breathed out deeply, letting the tension slowly ebb from his body. When he turned his gaze down to Mariposa, he found her gazing up at him from Lance’s arms, and he gave her a smile. She let out a sound that was close enough to a giggle to warm him more than a fire ever could.

“Are you alright?” Lance whispered.

“Better now,” Keith answered, leaning against him.


	99. Keith/Lance - Courage

Lance pushed himself to move faster, stumbling through the forest with no idea where he was going. It was past midnight, and if his eyes hadn’t been better suited to the dark than a human’s, he was sure he would have killed himself by now. Instead he could just make out what was ahead, and it was enough for him to push onwards.

Behind him, he heard the howling of hellhounds. A cat-hybrid like him would make a delicious snack for one of those mutts, and Lance was not in the market for being eaten.

In hindsight, this was all of his fault. He had… sticky fingers, for lack of a better word. If there was one thing that motivated him, then it was definitely money, or jewellery, or shiny things. Trying to rob a hellhound den, however, was not his best idea. He was normally really good at sneaking past enemies. His stealth abilities were through the roof! There was no way he could quantify how much time he’d dedicated to learning those skills.

They had not, however, helped him in a cavernous hellhound den. One loud noise or misstep was enough to wake the pack, and when one wolf was up, the rest followed. 

Hence the chase through the woods.

It probably didn’t help that he’d killed two of their pack members. To be fair, it was in self-defence. Kill or be killed. Hellhounds could be incredibly vicious, and didn’t need to be provoked before attacking. Simply seeing someone or something foreign in their territory was enough to make them attack.

He’d taken damage fighting off the pack as he’d fled their den. One of the wolves had bitten right through his light armour, sharp teeth digging into the flesh of Lance’s arm and shoulder. He could feel blood congealing on his skin, but had no time to deal with it. Another hellhound had snapped at his leg, and even though he’d gotten a hit on it with his dagger, it had bit into his calf. As much as his shoulder hurt, the injury to his calf was worse – it meant he couldn’t run as fast as normal.

At least the hellhound hadn’t gotten his tail. One bite there and they’d be able to completely rip it off.

Lance crashed through the undergrowth into a clearing. The moonlight was stronger here, unhindered by the canopy of leaves above. He twisted around, one hand clutching at his injured shoulder as he scanned the dark smudge of trees behind him. Had he outrun the hellhounds? Had they given up on chasing him? Maybe he’d managed to escape out of their territory.

Snarls and barks told him he hadn’t.

He wondered how much further he could run. His legs were burning, and he was starting to feel dizzy. His fingers travelled back down to his dagger, where he’d hastily holstered it at his thigh. It still dripped with hellhound blood as he wielded it.

He waited for the hellhounds to burst through the trees, but they never did. Apprehension trickled down his spine. Then, out of nowhere, he heard a pained yelp. The sound of a scuffle echoed through the trees, followed by thumps and the slick sound of a knife carving through flesh. After several long moments, the sounds of the hellhounds stopped altogether. 

Lance’s ears perked up. It was hard to hear over the sound of his own panting. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” a voice said.

Lance tensed, and threw the dagger. It sailed through the air and clattered against something metal. 

A figure emerged from the trees, a sword raised to deflect the dagger. “That would have gone through my eye,” the figure groused, scowling.

Lance took a step back. “Who are you?”

“My name is Keith,” the man said, as he slowly lowered his sword. “You’re the one that provoked the hellhounds?”

Indignant, Lance straightened. “Not intentionally!”

Keith narrowed his eyes. Lance knew he wasn’t currently in the best state, but that was no reason to stare. “They could have killed you,” Keith said.

“Well that’s just part of the game, isn’t it?” Lance shot back. Anyone without a party or guild affiliation had no one to watch their back. Not many groups wanted a member like Lance, who was prone to taking shiny things and quite roguish in nature. Not to mention people wanted to partner up with those who were physically strong, like knights or paladins, not cat-hybrids.

Keith continued to frown as he bent to collect Lance’s dagger. “You look like you’re going to faint.”

Lance felt like it, too. He frowned at Keith too, even as he swayed on his feet. When Keith came over to return dagger, he let out a surprised noise when Lance tipped over. 

“Hold on, I have healing salves,” Keith said, but his voice was far away.

“Why are you helping me?” Lance croaked.

“It took courage to take on those hellhounds,” Keith answered. “And there’s safety in numbers.”

Lance was sure this stranger had just straight up recruited him to join a party, but he was too woozy to refuse. Part of him didn’t want to. Anyone with reflexes fast enough to deflect a dagger to the head was clearly skilled, and it didn’t seem like Keith wanted to hurt him. The opposite, actually.

Maybe forming a party with him would be a good thing.


	100. Keith/Lance - Fate

Lance stretched out on the mossy rock beneath him, making a small, pleased groan as he did. He spread his white wings out on either side, as far as they could go, until his feathers were quivering with the stretch of it. Sunlight filtered down through the trees from above, warming the backs of his wings. It was a sunny, pleasant day, and he was soaking in as much of the sun’s rays as he could.

It was rare that he made his way down to the mortal realm. Most angels lived up in the sky, in floating palaces high above the clouds, far beyond where any mortal could ever dream of reaching. As beautiful as it was up there, Lance did like coming down to the mortal realm every now and then. They had beautiful seas, and seeing them up close was always a delight. Not to mention the sun was always so warm.

Of course, there were always risks with visiting the mortal realm. Mortals couldn’t see them, but animals could. It was sometimes funny when an animal took off after an angel, confusing their mortal owners. It was always unintentional on the part of the angel. Since mortals couldn’t see them, it was easy to forget that their animal companions could. Most of the time, angels didn’t travel to the mortal realm, to avoid accidentally interfering with the lives of mortals.

Avoiding the mortal realm meant they also avoided the one type of being who could see them.

Demons were their opposites in every sense. They lived beneath the mortal realm, in a realm of their own as removed as the one angels lived in. Demons were far more willing to meddle in the lives of mortals, often striking deals with them, or manipulating them. Since mortals couldn’t see them either, demons were disembodied voices over their shoulders, like little bad thoughts in one’s mind. It was an angel’s job to prevent mortals from doing things at the behest of a demon.

But Lance was off-duty, hence the lounging around. It had been a while since he’d had some time off, where he could do anything he wanted. Most of his free days were spent by the seaside, or soaring over the ocean, his wings a white reflection against the water’s surface. There was something freeing about the sight of the ocean, he thought. It was sometimes visible from the angel’s realm, when gaps in the clouds exposed the mortal world below.

On a normal day when he had time free, he probably would have gone straight to the ocean. Lately, however, he’d noticed that he’d gained a… shadow. Even during his working hours he felt someone watching him, following him. Their stare never felt threatening or oppressive, which is why he’d never mentioned it to anyone. Angels had very good instincts when it came to danger; it was practically part of the job description since mortals tended to put themselves in harm’s way quite often.

This was different. He knew it wasn’t an animal, since they were never afraid to approach an angel. Animals loved affection from them. And since mortals couldn’t see angels, Lance knew it had to be a demon following him. Naturally, this brought up a lot of concerns. What would a demon want with him, and why didn’t it attack? It wasn’t uncommon for scuffles to break out between angels and demons when one interfered with the other’s business (which was the tragedy of their species, since each was perfectly designed to hinder the other; it was unavoidable, built into their DNA).

But, as he mentioned, this felt… just different. He couldn’t explain it well. Any other time he’d faced a demon, it hadn’t ended well. He’d seen particularly violent demons hurt angels beyond repair, even kill them. It was why a many angels worked in pairs, or choose not to spend their free time in the mortal realm.

Truthfully, he probably shouldn’t have been treating the situation so lightly. He just didn’t feel like he was in danger, and he’d always trusted his instincts. Why would they prove to be wrong now, out of the blue?

So when he heard a rustling noise in the surround forest, he wasn’t too concerned. He opened his eyes and lifted his wing away from his face, where it had been shielding him from the sun, to watch as the demon emerged from the shadows. This was the first time he’d actually shown himself. As far as demons went, Lance thought he was quite handsome. He had an angular, stern face, but his bright eyes offset that. A pair of large, black-feathered wings sat comfortably at his back.

He didn’t say anything. Lance didn’t either. Meeting the demon’s gaze did nothing but reinforce his thoughts – that this demon didn’t want to hurt him. He lowered his wing but didn’t hide his face again as he settled back down to doze. He heard the demon come over and sit beside the smooth, low rock Lance was lying on, like he was guarding Lance.

It was surprisingly peaceful. Lance dozed in and out of consciousness. When the sun began to bother him, the demon extended one wing, casting a shadow over him. Lance found the gesture sweet, all the more so since the demon wasn’t looking at him when he made it. He used his own wing to nudge the black feathers down over him, pressing his nose amongst them and sighing. It was comfortable, and the demon’s feathers felt pleasing against his skin.

“Your name?” he whispered.

“Keith,” the demon answered, his eyes still out on the forest, watchful and protective.

“Keith,” Lance repeated, thoughtful. It was a nice name. “My name is Lance.”

Keith made a small grunt.

Angels believed in fate, that there was a guiding hand steering them towards their greatest purpose. Many times, that purpose included finding love. It was said that a great sense of ease and comfort came over one when they found their match. Lance had often wondered if fate had a match for him, and now he thought it did. It was unheard of for an angel to find their match in a demon, but how else could he explain the way he was completely at ease with this demon beside him? 

Hesitant fingers touched Lance’s wings. They startled him, but he relaxed into it easily enough. Keith stroked his feathers with a careful reverence, like he was afraid his touch might sully their purity. Lance felt comforted by the gesture, and pushed his wing further into Keith’s hands, asking for more. 

“Your wings are soft,” the demon whispered.

Lance hummed, letting Keith’s feathers brush against his cheek. “I could say the same for yours.”

Maybe it should have been strange how quickly he’d grown used to Keith’s presence. The demon had been trailing him for a while now, so even though this was the first time Lance had physically seen him, he didn’t feel like they were strangers. He wondered how Keith had first found him, but decided to ask that question later. He felt too relaxed to do anything other than lay there.

He knew this wouldn’t be the last time they met. If fate had decided they were to be together, then he was sure their paths would cross once more. Keith seemed to have an uncanny ability to find him, anyway. Even if he found himself reluctant to think about the fact that he would have to return home at some point, he was comforted by the knowledge that they would see one another again. 

“Do you visit earth often?” Keith asked.

Lance hummed again. “The mortal realm is where we do our work,” he said.

Keith was quiet for another moment. “And during your free time?”

“I can be persuaded to,” Lance teased.

Keith let out a small sound that was close enough to a laugh to make Lance grin at the back of his head. “I see,” he said.

Lance nudged him with his wing.

Keith nudged him back. Lance could see he was smiling now.

They made an unlikely combination, but Lance found he didn’t care all that much. Fate could not be denied, nor did he want to deny it. Not if it meant he couldn’t see Keith again.

“You’ll persuade me, won’t you?” Lance asked, voice quiet.

“Persuade you to what?”

“Come to the mortal realm more.”

Keith turned his head to the side, just a little, so that he could meet Lance’s eyes. There was a fiery, intense look in his eyes, one that made Lance feel flushed from his toes all the way to the tips of his ears. He’d never seen such an intense look on someone before. From this close up, he could see the colour of Keith’s eyes, and they were the most mystifying violet he’d ever seen.

“I’ll persuade you,” he said, like there was no doubt in the world.

Lance believed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking around for another hundred stories! I hope you liked them! ❤


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